The Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park
by Janette Morgan
Summary: Emberlynn and Nicholas, two writers who seemingly have nothing in common, find themselves in the same place: OFUAP. Based on Miss Cam's University of Middle Earth with permission. Just updated, 4srs!
1. A Girl & A Ghost

Author's Note: Well, this is it. The University of Amity Park. My first full-length story! I warn you, it _will_ be a slow updater, but there should be a new chapter every month or so.

Disclaimer: For added legal whooswat, I do not own Danny Phantom or the concept of Fanfiction University. Butch Hartman and Miss Cam do, respectively. This will not be repeated in further chapters.

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Chapter One: A Girl & A Ghost

Emberlynn was a genius.

Well, at least _she_ thought so. After many hours of tirelessly wracking her brain, she had figured out how she would write the next chapter of her story. And she was going to write it now. It was three AM, but she didn't really care; she was a genius and she couldn't wait to share it with the world.

Emberlynn wasn't her _real_ name, but as her username was "Emberlynn Fenten", that was what she called herself. And yes, that _was_ supposed to be spelled "Fenten". It was important to the plot. At least, that's what she claimed in her user lookup.

Her name, though, was the last thing on her mind as she flipped on her computer screen. Her WordPad document was up already -- she never turned it off. This story was her pride and joy, and she was not going to close it down until she had finished it.

Eagerly, she began to type. It was the crucial scene -- when her character Emberlynn - golly, she loved that name - would stumble into the Fenton's basement, have a nasty accident, and become a halfa. After all, the Fenton Portal was the only way to do it. Any other way meant that the character was going to be a villain.

_"Danny? You in here?" Emberlynn called as she looked around the room. Danny should be here, he'd invited her to come. Where was he?_

The _real_ Emberlynn laughed to herself. Danny was fighting another ghost, but her character didn't know that. And, after she became a halfa herself, she'd have to rescue Danny, because the ghost in question was uber-powerful.

_Suddenly a staircase caught her eye. She walked over to it and looked down, seeing that it went down into some kind of basement. Maybe he was down there. "Danny?" she called, placing a foot down onto the first step. Aprehension swept over her. She probably shouldn't be going down there. But Danny wasn't anywhere else, unless asleep in his room (A/N: She wouldn't look in there! Gross!) so maybe he was down here._

_She continued down the stairway, one hand on the wall as it got too dark to see where her feet were landing. At last she hit the bottom, right when her hand hit a lightswich. She flipped it on and gasped as the room was bathed in white-yellow light. It was filled - absolutely filled! - with all manner of weird stuff. Regular basment stuff, but in wierd colors._

_Danny wasn't here, but she didn't care anymore. Something had caught her eye at the far end of the room. It was some kind of big metal circle with a black and yellow door in the middle. (A/N Doesn't it look like the Stargate?) Wondering what kind of weird thing it was, she walked toward it. Looking close, she could see a cord ran from the ring to a plug in the wall. An extention cord. Probably to provide power._

_"I wonder what it is," she said aloud as she aproached the object. There was a big button on it. Curios she pushed the button. The door popped open to reveal... nothing. "Too bad," she said._

Emberlynn paused for a moment. _Now_ it was getting to the good bit. The character Emberlynn would find a button marked "On" on the inside of the portal and push it, triggering the inevitable reaction that would fuse her DNA with ectoplasm. She'd get to describe the character's outfit again (no _way_ Emberlynn would be caught dead in a dorky suit; she was wearing _fashionable_ clothes which would look way cooler once the colors were inverted), and then in a fit of panic and amazement the girl would head off to find and show Danny, discovering her awesome red-level powers and saving his life all in one hour. Then Vlad would find out about her powers and force her to join him to hunt Danny. Angst, of course, would ensue. Things like this made Emberlynn _happy_.

"SMELL-O-GRAM!"

The sudden loud noise combined quite well with the late hour and horrible stench, startling Emberlynn off her chair and onto her bedroom floor with a loud and painful _thud._

Then there was nothing. Well, there _was_ a lingering odor, which somehow reminded her of sick stomach acid, but nothing else. She must have imagined it.

"Oof," she grunted, shoving one hand into the carpet and thrusting herself upward -- only to fall down again, as her legs were entangled in her chair. So she yanked those particular limbs from that particular piece of furniture - causing the rest of her to hit the floor - and shoved herself upright.

The sight that met her eyes was almost enough to make her fall again, but as one arm was still functioning as a live pillar she managed to remain mostly upright.

It was a ghost. Not the sort of ghost she would normally expect, either, but a sort of long, whitish ghost whose eyes seemed to sneer almost as evilly as his mouth.

"Hello, Emily," the ghost greeted evilly, waving one hand.

"Emberlynn," she corrected.

He ignored her. "It is my exceeding pleasure to inform you that, in light of that ridiculous piece of crap you call a fanfic, your fanfiction license-" the last two words he lingered on with a diabolical flair "-has been-" he leaned toward her, pulling out several sheets of paper from nowhere in particular "-revoked." He practically exhaled the last word, blowing a horrible stink in her face.

"What's this?" she wondered aloud, reaching for the papers. In the dim light from her monitor, the only letters she could make out were in the header. These read, plain and simply, "Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park."

"Read the letter," he stenched, releasing the papers into her grasp. Then, in an odious "pop", the ghost known as Stinky vanished. The only hint that he'd ever been in the room was a lingering foul odor.

"The Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park?" she questioned aloud, mostly to reassure herself that that was indeed what she'd just read. Examination of the papers revealed that they were stapled together at more points than paper should be allowed. She leafed through them briefly, marvelling somewhat at the fact that they managed to open easily _despite_ the presence of secure fastenings on at least six sides of the four-sided sheets. The print was too small to be read in the darkness, however.

Well, now her curiosity was piqued. And at three AM, that wasn't neccesarily a good thing. Grumbling incoherently (her brain was much too foozled to come up with more than nonsense), she stood up, reached above her head and groped about for a moment. There was no point in looking -- her bedroom had a nasty habit of being far too dark to see. At last, she grasped the ceiling-light chain and tugged on it, causing bright and painful light to flood its way into her eyes.

"Ow!" she exclaimed quietly, but focused her attention on the papers in hand. What kind of idiot dropped into your house at three in the morning to give you a letter, anyway? It was... disgruntling, to say the least. _Oh, well, best find out what it's all about. Then I can finish my story._

"The Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park," she said again, mostly for good measure. "Congratulations, or not, on being chosen for the blah blah blah. If you are reading this, it means that, blah blah blah, you have had your fanfiction license - and and with it your writing priveledges - revoked. Unless on the unlikely chance-" she skimmed through the next part "-blah blah blah, in which case you should thank your lucky stars. However, if you actively write blah blah blah, then this _is_ for you."

She frowned. "How special."

"The process to be followed is simple. You will fill out the entrance form-" _Dang, there's a form?_ "-attached to this letter and lay it at the foot of your bed for easy location. Whatever. A member of OFUAP will pick it (and you) up and bring you to the University for blah blah blah. Once you have been processed, you will spend a day in orientation and begin classes on Monday. As this is not a regular school, you will not be taught regular classes. Instead, you willl be learning important aspects of good fanfiction."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Classes will run five days per week. On Saturday and Sunday, blah blah blah long as it does not involve violating the Codes or leaving University grounds. There will also be a week-long break in each semester (there are three, well, duh), during which you will be allowed to explore Amity Park, and various holidays on appropriate dates. Your birthday, however, will not be acknowledged. How sweet of them. You will blah blah learning to write fanfiction or playing..."

She blinked. Surely she'd read that wrong. "...Ghost iguana _dodgeball?_"

"As stated in the Codes, blah blah blah, having nothing better to do, Fatso, Stinky and Stretch of Casper? Have volunteered their services as staff section security, as Skulker is far too busy maintaining the torture chamber. At the end of the school year, if you have succeeded in passing the neccesary courses, you will be reissued your fanfiction license and returned to your reality in exactly the same time, place and state as you left it. Classes will be taught by various characters from the blah blah blah."

That was the end of the letter, so she turned the page. Across the top of this one was marked "The Twelve Codes of OFUAP."

"One: Learn through pain," she read aloud. "Two: Attraction is acceptable, lust is not. Yeah, whatever. Three: Beware Samuel the Flayer, for he eats your lusty dreams. Four: Do not underestimate ghost iguanas. Well, if they're anything like _real_ iguanas... Five: Neither Desiree nor Miss Miktayee have a sense of humor, except in accordance with Miss Morgan. Six: Miss Morgan's full name is not Morgan LeFay. Seven: Many of the staff have superpowers. Those who _don't_, report directly who those who _do._ Eight: Every class has a purpose. Nine: It is not our duty to know the Headmaster. Ten: No one shall enter the staff section without written permission from Miss Morgan or unless accompanied by a staff member. Eleven: If you can outmaneuver Stretch and withstand Stinky's breath, Fatso will eat you. Twelve: None shall write fanfiction unless directed to do so by a teacher."

Emberlynn blinked stupidly, then reread the page for good measure. Who the heck was Samuel the Flayer? Turning the page again, she found a pencil affixed below the header "OFUAP Entrance Form". On the page proper she could see what she considered to be a buttload of questions. _Maybe I should go to bed,_ she mused. _I'm probably not reading this right._

But then the rotten-acid smell picked up again, and she sighed. Well, no way she was standing up to do this. She sat down on her bed, found a nearby book to set the paper on, and after some wrestling removed the pencil from the page.

"Hmm... Warning: Read through and read fine print before you begin! Ah, whatever. I'll just read the fine print as I go." Collecting what was left of her brain cells, she began to fill out the form. "Name, Emberlynn Fenten. Age in years..." Her character age, or _her_ age? After a bit of deliberation, she wrote "fourteen". Sure, she was a good few years older, but all the kids in the show were fourteen. "Sex, M/F/A... what's A? F. Alignment, circle one, good, evil, neutral, other. Good. Species, circle one, human, halfa, ghost, other." This took absolutely no brainpower. "Halfa." Her character was, and who in their right mind wouldn't be?

Then she noticed the fine print. "Note: the application staff, i.e. Desiree and Miss Miktayee, do not have a sense of humor blah blah blah. If you are not your selected species, you will be upon your arrival. Pff. Yeah right."

Now the questions. "Do you know what a Mary-Sue is?" Duh. Of course. Mary-Sues were characters who were perfect in every way. "If so, have you ever written one?" No. Her character had flaws. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, after all. "Regardless, blah blah blah was a Mary-Sue? No. Do you have any pets?"

Did dustbunnies qualify as pets? "No."

"Any personal belongings you would like to bring to OFUAP, except clothes?" She thought for a moment. If in the hypothetical situation that she _was_ going to this University, she'd like to take some things along. Or better yet, some of her character's things. "Um... dark green backpack with 'Ghost Power' written on back in light green, gold chain with tear-shaped emerald pendant..." She needed to make her writing smaller. "Gold earrings set with tear-shaped emeralds, hyper-fast laptop computer."

Was that all? Yeah, probably. "What is your worst fear?" This one she had to think about. Her character's worst fear was having to destroy Danny, but that wasn't really applicable. "Falling from tall things. Who is your favorite Danny Phantom character and why? Danny, he's so awesome. Least and why, Skulker. He's so pathetic. Who's your Danny Phantom 'lust object'?"

Lust object. They made it sound so... _crass._ Still... "Danny."

"What are your favorite pairings, list three or fewer. Danny & Sam, Danny & OC... Jazz & Dash." That last one was especially fun to write. "Do you prefer to be with many, few or no people? Few. Are you blah blah blah Seven Deadly Sins?" Well, she'd heard of them, but she didn't know what they were. "N. What's your diet preference? Omn. Do you use spell check, proofread, let others proofread. N, Y, N. If you selected Human or Other, blah blah blah. Do you have any health or physical problems or injuries? No, duh. Note: the application staff blah blah blah. How long have you been a fan of Danny Phantom? Days, months, years." How long had it been now? "Uh, two years. Who is your favorite minor villain and why?"

Gak, she had to pick one? Okay... "Mosquitoes, 'cause they turned people into halfas. Describe yourself. In only a paragraph? Tall, thin, pretty, brown hair, green eyes." Yes, that was how her character looked. "Who is your favorite non-Danny Phantom character?" She blinked. She had one? Oh, yeah. "Edward Scissorhands from what-do-you-think?" While she wasn't sure that she'd liked the movie in general, Johnny Depp was an indisputably _hott_ robot. "What is your sexual preference? M. Eew. Blah blah, this is dumb. Lied or joked?" She'd put in her character's name and description as her own, so "Wye. Note: Desiree and Miss Miktayee blah blah blah. Inclined to swearing, no, willing to scrub the restrooms if supervised by Danny?"

She thought for a moment. No, there was _no_ way she was scrubbing a restroom. "Are you a human? Well, duh. Who is the Half-Blood Prince? Dunno. Note: the application staff blah blah blah. Describe Danny. Dark hair, big blue eyes, really cute and kind of skinny. In one word, Danny in black leather: Hott." This caused her brain to click. Would Danny look like Johnny Depp when he grew up? Whoo. "Copenhagen means, tobacco. Smoker, no. Lemon, no. Slash, no. Burger King, yeah. Plan to, no. Danny trapped in human or ghost form, yeah." It had been one of her favorites, at that. Danny had gotten trapped in ghost form. "Do you believe that this is the last question? Yeah." It was, after all, on the bottom of the page, and investigation revealed that the next page was just a short letter.

_Whew,_ she thought. _What a long form. These guys are evil or something._ She proceeded to the next page.

"Congratulations on completing Part One of the OFUAP Entrance Form. Before you begin Part TWO!" She slapped her forehead. "No way. There are some blah blah blah. Firstly, if you wrote your name at the beginning of the test, you have already - I have? Oh, crap! So go ahead and fill out the rest. Secondly, if you didn't read the fine print, well, I read the fine print. Your penalty will be to spend one non-class day scrubbing the bathroom of your bedspace, supervised by the Box Ghost. We will know if you haven't read the fine print. Yeah, whatever. Thirdly, no dropping out, four, think long and hard before you answer each question."

Crud. How many parts were there to this thing, anyway? "Read through blah blah blah."

She flipped to the next page. Sure enough, there was another forty questions. "Name again, Emberlynn Fenten. Electives?" She frowned, staring at the list. Most of them looked pretty boring. "Good antagonist without powers, I guess. Halfa Physiology, too. And that one, Where Money Comes From And Some Good Places It Can Go." The other two, definitely not. Who wanted a class with Jack Fenton or Mr. Lancer? "Note: All elective time not spent in class, iguana dodgeball, blah blah blah. Yeah, I heard that already. Why is a raven like a writing desk? No clue. Enjoy cooking? Heck no. Do I know who Vincent Price is? No. If so... blah blah. Which movies or books have given you nightmares? List four or fewer. Sure. Sleepy Hollow-" (Even Johnny couldn't save her from that monstrosity) "-uh, Beauty and the Beast did..." She frowned. Any more?

Oh, yeah. "Corpse Bride." Her love of Johnny Depp (and an enthusiast friend) had once again dragged her into a work of Tim Burton, and before she'd seen any more than the trailer she was having gruesome dreams about being undead. From now on, Emberlynn decided, she was not going to watch anything by Burton no matter _who_ it had in it. (_Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ hadn't been so bad, but she continually suffered strange ideas involving Christopher Lee as an aftermath. Why was it that no matter how hard she tried to avoid these movies they kept sneaking up on her? No more Burton!)

"Are you currently drunk? No. Expecting your period? Yeesh, that's rude! No. Married?" Undeads came to mind. She shuddered. "No. If so, blah blah. Note: Desiree and Miss Miktayee blah blah blah. If you listed your species as Halfa or Ghost, do your powers have any special element? Nah, that's silly, ghosts don't have elements. If you answered N to any Mary-Sue questions, blah blah, have you ever written blah blah blah, beauty, intelligence popularity, ghost/powers, physical skill, blah blah blah, employment under Vlad, your name, modesty? Four or more?" She studied the list. "Yeah. Have you bathed recently? Of course! Are you familiar with Tim Burton? Yeah. Have you ever seen and enjoyed any movies by Tim Burton that did _not_ star Johnny Depp? Gak, these guys must be psychic! No. Do you believe that Tim Burton's inflence could improve Danny Phantom and why? No. Tim Burton's a creepy and disturbed man. Are you a relatively good singer? Yes. Are you suceptible to PMS?"

Cue denial. "No. Do you frequently play video games? Sometimes. The Sims 2?" Yes. Absolutely. That was what she _did_ when she wasn't writing fanfiction. "If so, do you have any Sims of Danny Phantom characters? No, but I should... Had you ever heard of an OFU before OFUAP? No. Recite the Final Admonition: The whatawhat? Write a good example of your fanfiction summaries, any story will do: When Danny is caught in the Fenton Portal for a second time, he becomes trapped in ghost form. How will Sam react? Uh, I suck at summaries. I really do. Do you have a job? Yes! Writing Danny fanfic! Hobbies other than fanfiction? Yeah, I play The Sims. Are you familiar with the color urple? No. Finish these sentences. I am a ghost, blank. Fear me. Yeah, that, and my pants are filled with blank." Luckily for her, she had several family members who were high Muppet advocates. "Starfish. If I am not allowed to blank and make it my own, I will go insane and blank. No clue. Note: you don't actually have to fill these out, so don't bother. Dang it!"

She was beginning to get a strong urge to throttle whoever had written this test.

"Do you _really_ believe in ghosts? No. Why? 'Cause Tim Burton made them up." This was, of course, a joke. But she blamed a lot of her problems on Tim Burton, so it worked. "Do you hereby agree that blah blah blah, whatever, and not the University and it's staff? Sure. Stinkin' license agreement. Do you watch many cartoons other than DP? No. What's your favorite candy? Uh, maltballs. Why do you write fanfiction? 'Cause it's fun! How many major orifices do you have? What the heck? Would you prefer to wear a uniform? No. Have you ever written a crossover, no. How many fanfics? Uh, five. How many questions are there? Eighty, duh. Did you count subquestions and personal information in that total?"

She whacked herself in the forehead. Whoever had written this was _evil._ "No. Sign your name here, Emberlynn Fenten!"

And that was it. She'd completed the stinking form. Now to bed. Her fanfiction, she supposed, could wait, partially due to the fact that she'd half-forgotten what was going to happen next. She stood up, dropped her book somewhere, dropped the papers mindlessly at the foot of her bed, and clicked off the light.

Now she couldn't see. _I hate that about light._ Oh, well, she was going to bed anyway. Yawning, she collapsed onto her bed and promptly knew no more.


	2. A Boy & A Brainflayer

Here we are again. I've decided to be generous and post the next chapter before mid-November. Thanks to all who reviewed.

Speaking of reviews, cheetahs-sperit wrote one that was particularily interesting, especially since I had to put on my spellchecker glasses just to read it. Anyway, to answer her questions:

1: Employment to Vlad: Working or being forced to work for Vlad (especially the latter) is a Mary-Sue trait.

2: Emberlynn's favorite minor villain was the ghost mosquitoes, because everyone they bit turned into halfas.

3: Very bad things are going to happen on account of that form. You haven't even the faintest clue.

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Chapter Two: A Boy & A Brainflayer

Nicholas Taylor was very much enjoying his work.

It was a classic battle scene between Danny and Nicholas' character, whom he'd dubbed Diablo. Diablo was a typical nasty villain -- a ghost/demon hybrid, black hair streaked with red and firey abilites to go with his red clothing. And, naturally, he was kicking Danny's butt, being the uber-powerful character that he was.

_Danny's breath heaved as he picked himself up from the ground, his suit ripped or burnt away in several areas. Diablo snickered. "Idiot!" he leered. "Did you really think you could defeat me?"_

_"I will defeat you," Danny insisted, charging up for a plasma blast. Diablo simply smirked and hurled another fireball at Danny, but he turned intangible at the last second and flew up into the air, then blasted Diablo. The ghost/demon blocked it easily with a fire shield, then retaliated with his own blast._

Diablo would beat Danny, naturally, then fly away. Valerie, who had caught the scene on tape from beginning to end, would show her recording to the school and then the town, totally blowing Danny's cover. Diablo would meet Jasmin, use his special abilities to give her powers like his and generally convert her to the side of evil, before being eventually trounced by Danny and his friends. Then he would nearly die, but Jazz would save him by transferring her energy into him, effectively giving up her powers. He'd only be revived as a human, though. This left room for a sequel in which he reclaimed his powers -- but used them for the forces of good this time. Nicholas smiled. Things like this made him _happy._

And thirsty. Nicholas took a look at his computer clock -- nine PM. He'd been working on his story for three hours straight since dinner. Yawning a little, he hauled himself up from his chair. Walking over to the door, he thought for a moment. The next blast would hit Danny, but it wouldn't quite take him out. They'd go on for a couple more rounds before the halfa finally fell. How would those rounds go?

His thoughts came to a screeching halt upon opening his door, when he was greeted with the strangest sight he could recall having ever seen.

It had a head like a squid and eyes like a bug. And it was dark green. In general, it looked a lot like Cthulhu, but clad in grey-and-white robes.

"Hello, Nicholas," it said.

Nicholas gawked.

"My name is Samuel," it continued stoicly. "It is my pleasure to inform you that, due to the relentless proliferation of horrible fanfiction, your license to produce such has been revoked."

Nicholas goggled. "My what?"

The thing that called himself Samuel reached into his robes and pulled out a small stack of paper, which was inexplicably stapled together on more sides than it actually had. "Your fanfiction license," he said patiently, handing Nicholas the papers. "Read these. They will explain everything."

Then he disappeared. The confused teen wasn't exactly sure _how_ he'd disappeared, only that one moment he was there and the next he just wasn't. Glancing down at the papers, the first thing that caught his eye was the large and somehow sadistic-looking header: The Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park.

Well, he'd get a drink, and then he'd look at it. Tossing the papers to one side of the door, he headed out to get his drink.

The papers, for their part, didn't seem to mind; they just sat patiently, getting settled somewhat into the heap of junk, until Nicholas returned with his iced tea. By this time, he'd mostly forgotten the incident, and simply sat down at the computer to continue his fanfic.

But when he pushed a key, it didn't work. He pushed a few more, just to test, and nothing happened. He pushed the Key Lock button and pressed some keys. Still nothing.

_Your fanfiction license has been revoked._

Oh, yeah. The papers. He sighed, reached over, and grabbed them off the stack, flipping up the top page with surprising ease.

_Congratulations (or not) on being chosen for the Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park._

Ah, sadistic. Could be fun. After reading through the introduction and the Codes (so _that's_ who that Samuel guy was), he picked the pencil off the paper and set to filling out the form.

Name, Nicholas Diablo. Age, 17. Sex, M. Alignment, Evil. Species, Ghost. He kind of liked this test.

No, he didn't know what a Mary-Sue was. He had a flame-point Siamese cat and two goldfish. He wanted to take his DVD player and movies and (very sarcastically) a million bucks. He didn't have a worst fear. His favorite Danny Phantom character was Jazz. His least favorite was Tucker -- such a _dork!_ His lust object was Jazz, no doubt. His favorite pairings were, in that order, Jazz/OC and Danny/Sam. He liked to be alone. On and on and on and on. He liked to eat meat, he had no injuries, he'd been a fan of Danny Phantom for about five months. His favorite non-Danny Phantom character was Auron from Final Fantasy Ten, and he liked girls. He wasn't inclined to swearing, and he wasn't adverse to cleaning restrooms. Especially if Jazz was involved. No, he wasn't a human, he was a ghost/demon. His Danny Phantom "lust object" was pretty and had very nice red hair. Danny Phantom in black leather was kind of cool. The capital of Iceland was Reykjavik. He'd written slash, but no lemon. If they asked if he believed that it was the last question, it probably wasn't.

_If you wrote your name at the beginning of the test, you have already signed yourself into the University._ Well, go figure. That was the whole idea, though, so it probably didn't matter. _Your penalty (in addition to whatever you've inflicted upon yourself will be to spend one non-class day scrubbing the bathroom of your sex._ There was fine print?

His name was still Nicholas Diablo. He hated dodgeball, sign him up for everything. A raven was like a writing desk because... he had no clue. He liked barbecue, but that was it. No, he did _not_ aspire to be like Vincent Price. No books or movies had given him nightmares since _Dracula._ Was he expecting his period? Yes, he decided. People that sadistic needed dumb answers. His powers were fire-element. Yes, he'd written characters with four or more of those traits. He hadn't bathed for a couple of days. Tim Burton would ruin Danny Phantom, simply because he wasn't awesome enough. He played videogames, but not The Sims. The Final Admonition: Fulfill your duties calmly and reflect before you act, this shall bring you honor and glory. Something like that, anyway. Goofy kid sister loved _Mulan._ His summary wasn't much to sneeze at, but it sounded pretty good. No, he didn't have a job. Some hobbies; mainly drawing and games. No, he'd never heard of urple. Having noticed the fine print, he discovered that the fill-in-the-blanks were pointless. Sure, ghosts existed. There was too much proof. If he fell down the stairs, it was his fault. No, he didn't watch a lot of cartoons, just a few. Twizzlers were great. He had six major orifices, and don't get him started on the minor ones. He could wear a uniform. He'd never written a crossover, and he'd written approximately two fanfics. There were probably about eighty-five questions in the list, otherwise they wouldn't have asked the question. And his name was _still_ Nicholas Diablo.

Having filled out the entire form, he deposited it exactly at the foot of his bed, then returned to his computer. WordPad still wasn't responding, so he shut down the whole mess and decided he'd go to bed early. The whole Samuel the Flayer thing had left him a bit drained. So, while the papers waited contentedly once more, he ran through his pre-bed routine -- changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth, dunked his head into a sinkful of water, wondered whether he'd need to shave in the morning (it didn't seem too likely yet) and climbed into bed, unceremoniously shoving himself under the blankets.

Then he proceeded to lay awake for an hour. Go figure.

When he finally did fall asleep, he lay much in that condition for another two hours, and nothing much happened. The papers were starting to get bored - _where_ was the pickup?

And there it was. Nicholas' bedroom window opened in a barely-noticeable manner, and in - through the screen, no less - flew several small glowing orbs, arranged in such pairs that if the teenage boy had awoken, he would have mistaken them for glowing white eyes. One pair flew to the foot of his bed and inexplicably picked up the papers, while the others surrounded the sleeping figure and threw off his blanket. Had they had more brains than they did, they would have found it quite humorous that he wore Batman pajamas, but as it was they were too busy hefting him out of his bed with a strength one didn't normally attribute to small glowing orbs.

And then, with all the glowy grandeur of a Klingon transporter in stark multicolor, they disappeared.

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Nicholas, who by now was having pleasant Jazz-flavored dreams, reappeared with the orbs in a dark room. The lone pair with the papers (whose mental processes were somewhat along the lines of "Whee! Flying!") blinked into existance shortly thereafter, catching the attention of a wake figure somewhere else.

As our eyes adjust, we see her - a shortish, curvaceous figure whose wide shoulders seem crafted to accomodate her generous breasts, with skin of deep blue and hair of contrasting blonde - walk, between several other snoozing teens, toward the new arrival with less grace than one would normally attribute to such a figure.

She reached for the papers with a sardonic aire, taking them less-than-graciously from the orbs that held them. Their task accomplished, the glowing spots disappeared, doubtless to fetch another soon-to-be student.

Samuel, who was quite finished at this point with his "informant duty", stepped out of the shadows toward Nicholas. The boy was having lusty dreams... he could sense it. A grin spread throughout his twenty-odd tentacles, and he knelt by the teenager's head, placing one hand rapturously on the mass of black hair. Tonight had yielded a good crop.

The blue woman, meanwhile, had gone into a side room. This one was much better lit, and contained an oversized desk - already covered with papers - and another figure, whom many of the people outside would recognize as Desiree, the "Djinn Ghost" as Miss Morgan had dubbed her. She was going through the papers, grinning evilly whenever she saw that a student had entered "Halfa", "Ghost" or especially "Other" as their species.

And now that she had a sizeable lump of forms, Miss Miktayee the Temporarily Q-Powered Ngin joined her. Miss Morgan had made it well worth their time to go through stacks of paperwork.


	3. Wakeup & Welcome

Some notes before we begin.

Just Plain Insane: See The Universal Mary-Sue Litmus Test for a comprehensive clicky-list of Mary-Sue traits.

A Mere Servant of God, KatyaChekov: Thank you for volunteering. I'll get that form out to KC PDQ and see if I can stuff you in somewhere.

Cheetah's Spirit: That's okay. You just need more practice.

Chapter 3: Wake-up & Welcome

"ALL RIGHT, SLEEPIES! SNOOZETIME'S OVER!"

It was this exact exclamation that jolted Emberlynn out of her pleasant sleep. Before her eyes were fully open, she had sat bold upright and let out a holler, which mingled quite well with those of... several other people?

She blinked. Wherever she was, it wasn't her bedroom. She seemed to be in some kind of huge, rickety-looking wooden area, and she was surrounded by people, several of which looked as befoozled as she was. Looking down, she could see that she was still in her clothes, but no longer on her bed -- instead, she'd been sleeping on a somewhat cruel-looking mini-table. For how long?

"WELCOME TO THE OFFICIAL FANFICTION UNIVERSITY OF AMITY PARK!"

The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere high up. Looking in that direction, Emberlynn could see a short, wide female figure standing on a balcony with a megaphone, clothed in a grey-and-white robe ensemble. In the corner of her eye, she could see other people - mostly girls, how many of them _were_ there? - looking in the same direction.

"Thank you," the woman said, quieter this time. "Now that I have your attention, I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here."

_A member of OFUAP will pick you up and bring you to the University for processing._ So this was the University? Emberlynn raised her hand. "We're here to learn to write fanfiction, right?"

"Very good, Emberlynn," the woman said, smiling. "Each and every one of you has been brought here to the University because your Danny Phantom fanfiction was, in a word, crap."

"It was not!" someone protested.

The woman frowned. "Ed, my SaAMPoV gun, please."

A door opened behind the woman, and a weird-looking bat/human hybrid stepped out, wearing a similar outfit to that of the woman and holding a very large and ornate-looking gun. "Here you are, Miss-"

"Don't say my name," she warned him, setting down her megaphone and taking the gun. "You'll spoil the introduction. Thank you, Ed." She turned back around, aimed the gun and fired.

"It IS crap!" the girl exclaimed suddenly. "Oh, my gosh, the plot devices are so trite! I'm amazed anyone wanted to read it!"

The woman set down the gun and reclaimed her megaphone. "Anyone else had a problem?"

A few No's spread through the crowd.

"Didn't think so. Now, that fellow you just saw is Ed the haircut guy. If any of you have a problem with your hair, go to him and he will make it worse."

"Eep," Emberlynn muttered. Was the school full of these weirdos?

"Back to subject, now. Since you've all read your entrance letters, I'll skip the preamble and get straight to the introductions. I am Miss Morgan, assistant headmistress."

Emberlynn squinted at the woman. Was she _real_? She looked like some kind of life-sized figurine. And not a very old one, either. Probably modelled to be a teenager.

"You've met Ed the haircut guy, and this is Samuel the Flayer."

As he stepped out onto the balcony, Emberlynn noted that he was one of the ugliest creatures she'd ever seen. And why were these guys all wearing these dorky-looking robes?

"Remember Code Number Three: Beware Samuel the Flayer, for he eats your lusty dreams. I believe you experienced this just last night, Nicholas."

Somewhere to Emberlynn's right, a reddish-looking male ghost paled a bit. Emberlynn did a double take. A _ghost?_ Looking around, she noticed that a good percentage of the gathered teenagers were also ghosts. Worse, the _entire_ assembly seemed to consist of the aforementioned life-sized puppets.

"Miss Miktayee is my personal assistant." Emberlynn looked up just in time to see a dark blue female... _elf?_ Her pointy ears contrasted sharply against her blonde hair. Maybe she was some kind of Drow sport.

"Both her and I have full Q powers. We will not hesitate to use them on students who misbehave. Remember Code Number Seven: Many of the staff have superpowers. Those who _don't_, report directly who those who _do._"

Now that Miss Morgan had stopped talking for a moment, Emberlynn looked down to examine her hands. As she suspected, the polymer-figurine malady seemed to have affected herself as well.

"Various classes will be taught by various Danny Phantom cast members. You will find out exactly who teaches what when you recieve your schedules." She paused and leaned onto the wooden railing, which strangely didn't so much as wobble under the weight. "There will be penalties for those who fail to attend classes. Now, I'm sure many of you by now have noticed that despite your previous status as humans, you are now whatever species you claimed to be on your entrance form. If you failed to read the fine print - such as Emberlynn Fenten and Carmen Womack, for instance - then your restroom-cleaning session is included on your schedule. If you thought we were joking, you got what you deserved, so no kvetching."

How did they know she hadn't read the fine print? Maybe it was some kind of psychic powers. Well, at least she hadn't claimed to be a ghost. But... she _had_ claimed to be fourteen. Would that have an effect?

She glanced down to check. It did. _Gak! I was over the half-developed stage!_

What species _had_ she put down? She thought for a moment -- then abruptly fell through the wooden table, bringing the answer immediately to light.

"Great," she muttered, picking herself up -- then bonking her head on the underside of the table. "I'm a _halfa!_"

"If you selected Ghost, Halfa, Other: some kind of species with powers, or Human with added powers, then you will require coaching to control said powers. Let's deal with that now. I have here, courtesy of Desiree and Miss Miktayee, a list of such people. I want you all to get down off your table-beds and move to the right side of the room. Then, when I call your name, please move to the left side of the room."

Emberlynn, who was already off her table, gave a squeak of surprise when it disappeared into thin air. Similar noises sounded around the room from people who had dismounted, and grunts of pain emitted from those who hadn't when they hit the floor. Though Emberlynn knew her name was on the list, she shuffled over to the right side anyway. The floor was covered in ratty burgundy carpet, and looking around revealed that the room was larger than she'd thought to begin with. What with the balcony and all, it looked like some kind of Grand Hall.

A hand near Emberlynn went up. "Are you, like, seperating the wheat from the chaff or something? 'Cause I picked Halfa, and I don't think I'm really chaff quality."

"That's a way of putting it," Miss Morgan answered, smiling evilly. "Except we're more seperating the chaff from the briars."

When everyone was finally assembled, Emberlynn found herself surrounded on all sides by people. The only direction she could really see was the direction that everybody saw -- up toward Miss Morgan.

"Oh, yes," she said, as though suddenly remembering something. "Many of you have probably noticed that the entire assembly and staff consists of polymer puppets. This was the Headmaster's suggested solution to the fact that we were blending real people with both animated and computer-generated characters."

"Is Tim Burton the headmaster?" somebody wanted to know. "You make a lot of references to him."

"Code Number Nine: It is not our duty to know the Headmaster," she answered. "Now, first people first. Abercrombie Fauntleroy."

A tall, skinny boy squeezed his way out of the crowd.

"Acnefied Pimplehead."

A blonde and very zit-faced girl wriggled toward the left, muttering something about ecto-acne.

"Amelia Octavio."

Another girl, this one clearly a ghost. A dark purple one.

"A Mere Servant of God." Yet another halfa.

"A Very Stupid Guy."

A very _embarassed_ guy appeared. Emberlynn stared at him for a bit before determining that he was neither ghost nor halfa, but some kind of fairy.

"Aziza the Awesome."

This went on. And on. And on. Barbara Coffelt, Belinda the Belligerent Bum, Boise Scout Mayonnaise, Cavana Cocoon, Caraway Seed, Daxter Jak, Drextel Farley, Demetria DeVille, Donovan Grey, Dorian Grey ("I'm having a painting comissioned of you," Miss Morgan remarked), Dork Patrol, Eberhart, Ebil Crap, Ecto Breeze ("Some kind of ghost air freshener?") Emberlynn Fenten (oh, yes, that was her cue) Eternally Phantom, Evil Incarnate, Fairy Godmother (exactly as advertised), Fenton Girl, Fenton's Girl ("I'm gonna call you two Libby and Squiggy, okay?") Finklestein, Fuzzy Wuzzy...

NjNjNNjNNjNjNjNNjN

Nicholas watched as more and more students left the right half. Judging by the rate they were going, probably about two-thirds of the population had some kind of powers. Gangly Moron, Gary Giggles, Georgina Radcliffe ("Nice, strong British name," Miss Morgan observed, causing her to blush profusely), Gonzo, Gregarious Nithead (who, courtesy of Miss Miktayee, had been cursed with much headlice), Harry Houdini, Hellfire ("We'll have to censor that to Heckfire," Morgan joked), Hickey Face, 'Ortense the 'Ermit (Miss Morgan insisted that it still started with H), Iana Sapphire, Ian Masters, Intropic Cascade, Irene Featherhead (apparently her sister had found the form and inserted a surname), Jack's Girl, Jake the Snake (who, typically, _was_ at least partly a snake), James LeTorneau, James the Giant Peach, Kaytlynn, KatyaChekov (one word, she insisted), Kelly Borgnine, Keston Pryce, Kill-o-Zap, Kurry Beef, Lappy 486, Larry Wonderdog, Lester the Toaster, Lina Fenton, Loopy Larry, Mashed Potatoes, Meathead, Money Lady, More Awesome Than You, Nasty Natalie, Nicholas Diablo - _there_ it was. Finally.

The red ghost filed over to the right and buried himself amongst some conspicuous-looking students - Demetria DeVille, Evil Incarnate and Kill-o-Zap, to be precise. They had already formed some kind of "Clan of Evil", apparently.

Noticing his arrival, Evil Incarnate (one of the older teens, a ghost of diabolical blue-black) whispered something to her companions and turned toward Nicholas. "Are you evil?" she wanted to know.

"Why, yes," he answered, giving an evil smirk for good measure. He _had_ entered that as his alignment. "Yes, I am. In fact, I'm so evil that to join a so-called evil group would wholly corrupt them."

Evil Incarnate thought this over for a moment. "What a _horrible_ shame," she remarked. "All that testosterone and nowhere to put it."

"Indeed. There are quite enough men among you." He was referring to Kill-o-Zap the Halfa, who had "gone ghost", so to speak, and was arcing increasingly large bolts of electricity between his fingers with an evilly blank expression.

"Hellfire is evil," Demetria announced, pointing to aforementioned teen -- who was, curiously enough, also a girl, with flaming red hair and grey... boxer shorts, with little flames. Her arms were folded protectively over her bare chest.

Nicholas snickered. What had become of the students who'd slept naked?

"What's this clan all about?" Hellfire demanded dourly.

"Everyone who put in their alignment as 'Evil' can join," Demetria answered. "We keep together, plan evil things and wear dark clothes -- and _no_ dorky stuff like dinosaur pajamas." She glared directly at Nicholas as she said it.

Feeling defensive (and a bit nasty), he conjured up a large fireball and held it in one hand. "Pajamas do not make the man," he stated hotly.

"Or the moron," Incarnate yawned. "Otherwise, I suppose they'd wear them in public. Will you be joining or not?"

"No," he answered, releasing the fireball. These kids were _so_ not worth his time. He stalked away, being sure to scowl profusely.

Then the giddiness hit. He'd conjured a _fireball!_ A real one! A BIG one! Could he do it again? Probably. Ah, ghost powers. The sweet fruit of life.

He'd missed a lot of name-calling, he noticed. Miss Morgan was into the T's, already. Not like it mattered. He'd forgotten most of the names already.

"Trogdor the Burninator."

Trogdor was a halfa. But apparently, due to some kind of processing error, he was not only half _ghost_, but half _dragon_ in addition to the half human he already possessed. Did that make him a thirda? No, the way halfas worked he was probably one quarter human, one quarter dragon, and half ghost. A mind-numbing mathematical error either way.

Now what about that firepower? Come to think of it, Nicholas wasn't even sure how he'd done it. He'd just pretty much sort of thought about it. No concentrating involved, really. He held out a hand, feeling unsure and a bit stupid, and thought about it again. A _smaller_ one this time.

There it was. Totally awesome.

"Hey," said a voice, and somebody poked Emberlynn in the shoulder. Then a blonde female head appeared in front of her, attached to a body quite indistinguishable due to the fact that it was wrapped in a blanket. "You're a halfa, right?"

"Yeah," Emberlynn answered.

"I'm Intropic Cascade," the girl introduced herself. "I was gonna do Intropic Cascade Failure, but there wasn't enough room on the sheet. Anyway, I'm a halfa too. I was wondering, did you figure out how to go ghost yet?"

"I wasn't really thinking about it," Emberlynn answered honestly. "I bet they'll cover it in orientation."

"Yeah," Intropic agreed. "But I'd like to figure it out now. Just so I can have the satisfaction of being ahead of the class. Though looking at some of these guys, I think it's a little late for that."

"You probably just have to concentrate on your ghost form. That's how all the fanfics do it."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So what kind of fanfics did _you_ write?"

"Dash/Jazz," she answered. "Jazz gets onto Dash for beating up her little brother, and she realizes that he's really a hunky guy."

Eep. That wasn't how you wrote a Dash/Jazz!

"And I wrote one where Sam became half-ghost, because she never gets any action. You?"

"Self-insertion all the way," she answered. "Girl finds the Fenton Portal and becomes a halfa."

"I was thinking of doing one of those," Intropic remarked. "But I couldn't think of a good way to become a halfa."

"All I had to do was circle the word on a form," Emberlynn pointed out.

"Yeah, me too. Funny ol' world, idn' it?"

Emberlynn raised her eyebrows. "Whatever that was."

"I _said_-"

"NOW THAT YOU ARE ALL PROPERLY DIVIDED, PAY ATTENTION!"

Emberlynn jumped. Was Miss Morgan done _already_? Ah, she must've zoned out.

"Those of you on the left side of the room, proceed up the nearest staircase and through the door. Those of you on the right side of the room, _also_ proceed up the nearest staircase and through _that_ door. Any questions?"

Hands went up. One was Intropic's.

"Any questions partaining to these most recent orders?"

The hands dropped.

"Thank you. Now MOVE!"

As the crowd began to shuffle up the staircase to the balcony, Emberlynn noticed that the percentage of plain humans was ridiculously tiny. She couldn't help but snicker at their misfortune. Being a halfa was _way_ cooler... at least until she put a foot through the bottom step. "Darn it!"

Slowly but surely, she proceeded upward, wondering most of the way why it was that crowds always moved slightly slower than you wanted to. The Universe was probably working against her.

At long last, she shoved her way through the open door. It seemed to have spontaneously appeared there, oddly enough, and opened into another large (though considerably smaller than the Grand Hall) room. This one looked suspiciously like it had been part of a hallway with two rooms on either side before having some walls rearranged. On the far end of the room, in front of yet another door, stood Danny Phantom in all his dipped-armature glory. And goodness sakes, he was _hott._

"Danny!" exclaimed several girls, Emberlynn included. Suddenly, she found herself elbowing through the crowd to get to the object of her inane lust. She didn't want to do anything drastic, but his neatly-sculpted face was just so cute... _Just let me shake his hand, smooch him on the cheek, glomp him..._ Her thoughts degraded into somewhat lustier things, things that she wasn't sure were her own. It was all about Danny. Just get to Danny...

"Dani! Invisobil! Samanth!"

Three iguanas suddenly appeared in the room. Iguanas with glowing green eyes. One of them clamped his jaws onto Emberlynn's arm, knocking her down before leaping away. They were pet-sized iguanas, but indefinitely heavier. Another one grabbed onto her leg and began dragging her away. Away from Danny, away from her lust object. And strangely, the further away she got, the purer her thoughts became, until finally she was perfectly willing to stand and listen to whatever he had to say. Around her, several other fangirls were suffering a similar fate... and her arm hurt. _Dang_, did her arm hurt! Holding it up for inspection, she realized that there were several deep tooth marks in it, beginning to bleed.

_Polymer puppets bleed?_ Apparently. But she'd gotten off lucky -- Danny had taken it upon himself to handle some of the fangirls, and Intropic had been blasted into - _through, _rather - the wall by a large shot of plasma.

Once the girls had all been subdued - _dang, are these guys poison-toothed? Ow!_ the iguanas bounded over to Danny. "Thanks, guys," he said gratefully, reaching down to pet one of them. She gave a small purr of content. Funny, Emberlynn hadn't been aware that iguanas purred. "Lunch Lady's got some eggplant for you in the kitchen."

The iguanas disappeared, and Danny stared pointedly at Emberlynn and the others, who were all plastered against the left wall -- and, when they couldn't reach the wall, each other. "Are we going to try that again?" he questioned.

Emberlynn, who was quite too tied up with her increasingly painful arm (and now leg) to speak, simply shook her head, as did several others.

"Good," he said, smiling. "You have just met three of our ghost iguanas -- Dani, Invisobil and Samanth. There is an iguana for every misspelled name in Danny Phantom fanfiction. We express this with the following mantra: 'Every name that you misspell, a Ghost Iguana spawns from hell.' Several of you are responsible for iguanas, such as Nicholas Diablo's 'Jasmin' and Zephyr the Awesom Snake's 'Bakster.' And if I ever learn who spawned Jubba the Hutt, I will hunt you down and cause you great pain. The least you could do when mentioning a Star Wars character is to get the name right, though I suppose that since you can't even spell _normal_ names properly, it's too much to ask. Anyway, welcome to Orientation. Miss Morgan!"

There was a flash of light, and several chairs appeared in the room.

"Please have a seat. Several of you are sore from the recent attempt on my life. And while later you will be forced to stand on your pained legs, I sadly have orders not to hurt you too much today."

Gratefully, Emberlynn flew toward a chair and placed her rump into the seat. Immediately, she noticed that it was wooden and particularily hard; well, at least she was off that leg. It was starting to hurt so badly that, had there not been chairs, she would have willingly sat on the floor. And her arm wasn't much better off. Why did it have to be her _right_ arm? Luckily, the iguana hadn't severed any tendons. Intropic, who had only somewhat recovered from the blast, staggered up and plunked into the seat next to her, grunting an "Ow." Her general appearance was that of someone who had plugged their fingers and toes simultaneously into empty electrical sockets.

A desk had also appeared at the end of the room, and from it Danny fetched a large stack of sheets. "I am going to give you your schedules now," he warned. "Any attempts to glomp, smooch or otherwise assault me _will_ have painful retribution, as you've learned." Having said that, he began to stroll down the first row of seats. His long, inexcusably slender and highly sexy fingers bent in lustable ways as he handed each student their personal sheet of paper. Emberlynn, seated way in the back as she was, had absolutely no luck in seeing what was written. But the way his legs moved in that tight black suit... the only possible improvement would have involved leather. He was so... _graceful._ A little stiff, but graceful. His legs were so _long!_

When he finally approached Emberlynn, she found herself overcome with the strange feeling that her armature had just melted. Even the pain in her limbs seemed to numb as his beautiful fingers came dangerously close to her own in the paper transferance. And when she looked up, his delightful bishi face with its moonlike eyes was almost too much to handle. Whoever said green cheese was nasty?

Then he moved on, and the moment was gone. Sighing, Emberlynn glanced down at her schedule sheet. The information was straightforward enough: _Emberlynn Fenten, room 23, bed A. Classes: Ghost Physiology 101 on Monday, Wednesday, w/Jack and Maddie Fenton. How To Be A Good Antagonist Without Powers on Monday with Dash Baxter. Fighting Ghosts on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, with Danny Phantom and a new guest teacher each day. Halfa Physiology 101 on Tuesday with Danny Phantom and Vlad Plasmius. Being Evil Ain't Easy on Tuesday, Thursday with Vlad Plasmius and Skulker. Highschool Relations 101 on Wednesday, Friday with Danny Fenton and Sam Manson. Why There Aren't More Halfas on Wednesday with Jazz Fenton. Where Money Comes From And Some Good Places It Can Go on Wednesday with Vlad Masters. Iguana Dodgeball on Thursday, Friday with the Ghost Iguanas._

Straightforward enough. After a few more minutes, when everyone seemed to be done reading, Danny spoke again. "I'll take questions now."

Hands went up.

"Abercrombie Fauntleroy, you go first."

"Who's in charge of human orientation?" he wanted to know.

"Danny Fenton."

Emberlynn was suddenly glad that she hadn't been the one to ask. A few hands went down.

"Now Cavana Cocoon."

"When do we get clothes?"

Danny grinned... evilly. "After we're done here. Ecto Breeze?"

"Can we write fanfiction when we're not in class?"

"Code Twelve: None shall write fanfiction unless directed to do so by a teacher. Plasmus!"

A ghost iguana appeared in Cavana's lap, and promptly lodged its jaws into her shoulder.

"That should work for a reminder. Thank you, Plasmus."

The iguana disappeared. Wide-eyed, and whimpering, Cavana promptly clutched her shoulder in obvious pain. Several more hands went down.

"Squiggy, your turn."

Fenton's Girl frowned. "Why _is_ a raven like a writing desk, anyway?"

"Miss Miktayee says it's because Poe wrote on both. 'Ortense the 'Ermit?"

"What's with all the Tim Burton stuff, anyway?"

"I dunno. Jake the Snake."

"What's urple?"

There was a flash of light. All at once, Jake the Snake was a horrific shade of pink-purple and Miss Morgan was standing next to Danny, arms crossed and grinning in a macabré manner that was almost as horrifying to see as Jake's new color. "That's urple," she said simply, and disappeared.

"Okay, More Awesome Than You."

"What day is it?"

"It's... August thirty-first."

Pachinko Pinochle wanted to know how big the University was. Danny told him that it was infinitely bigger than he thought. Susan Storm (or, as Danny called her, The Smart Alek) wanted to know where it was. Turned out they were in an old house in Amity Park. An old house which was now officially haunted. They'd remodeled it, but only a little. Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged (so his form said, as he'd had to make his writing tinier and tinier to fit on the line) wanted to know where Ed the Haircut Bat came from ("I dunno, ask Miss Morgan,") and Zoe Clampett ("Seriously, that's my name!") asked what SaAMPoV stood for. "See and Adopt My Point of View," he answered.

And thus he ended Orientation... for now. The chairs and desk disappeared, and he ordered the assembly through the back door ("Your rooms are down the hall.")


	4. Rooms & Roomates

Chapter 4: Rooms & Roommates

Those with really big room numbers on their cards had sort of naturally worked their way ahead, so by the time Nicholas got into the hallway he was practically at the back of the line. That didn't really matter, though. He just had to get to room five. Room five, room five... there it was. He opened the door and slipped inside.

He gawked. The room was _huge._ Bunkbeds everywhere. Worse, there seemed to be no gender differentiation -- Hellfire and Kill-o-Zap had already taken up residence, Hellfire on the top bunk of one bed and Kill-o-Zap on the bottom of another.

"Is this the right room?" he wondered stupidly.

"Room number five," Hellfire answered. "The room of evil loners, I think."

"'Pparently they thought it'd be funny to stuff us all together," Kill-o-Zap explained. They were both out of their pajamas, he noted, and wearing identical white suits with grey belts and boots.

"Gross," he remarked. "Um, where's bed H?"

"This one," Hellfire answered, pointing down.

"Gross. I can't share a bed with a girl!"

"Careful -- the walls have ears," she warned.

Too late. Miss Morgan had already appeared in the room. "Why not?" she demanded.

"I'm a _guy._ It's just not right."

Miss Morgan smiled. There was a flash of light, and Nicholas suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd just been completely rearranged and drained of something important. "That better?"

"Say no," Hellfire mouthed, a highly horrified expression plastered across her face. When he gave her a puzzled look, she gestured downward.

So he looked downward. The sight that met his eyes was probably the worst one he'd ever seen. Miss Morgan had turned him into a girl.

"Of course, she _is_ on a different bunk..." Nicholas remarked thoughtfully.

"A very good point. You're very perceptive. You know, that looks pretty good on you. I think I'll leave you like that for awhile."

And she disappeared.

"Hey!" Nicholas protested.

"Don't bother," Hellfire answered. "When she gets like that, there's no changing her mind. Clothes are in the closet."

"Hey, we don't have to worry about testosterone poisoning," Kill-o-Zap remarked cheerfully. Nicholas simply scowled and stomped over to the closet.

Even when a stack of DVDs and a million dollars were unearthed, Nicholas didn't feel much better.

NjNjNNjNNjNjNjNNjN

"Uniforms?" Emberlynn whined. "I said I didn't want to wear a uniform!"

"Everybody's gotta wear one," Underwear Eater pointed out. "I bet most guys said they didn't want to wear them, so they made us do it."

"Likely," she grumbled, reaching to pull down her pants. "Close your eyes."

"Dang." Just like a guy with a name like that to try and get a rear shot. Quickly as she could, Emberlynn slipped out of her clothes and pulled on a clean uniform, tightening the belt around her not-as-curvy-as-she'd-like waist. "Geez, when I said I was fourteen, I didn't think they'd take it literally!"

"These guys take _everything_ literally," Eater answered. "I think I heard Miss Miktayee call this hall the Habitat Ring."

"Go figure. Hey, my jewelry's in here!"

"Jewelry?"

"My earrings and necklace," she answered, already fastening the latter piece around her neck. "My backpack and laptop's back here, too. Did you bring anything?"

"A teacup German Shepherd."

_A teacup... German Shepherd?_ Emberlynn blinked. _Is that even possible?_

"Arf-arf-arf-arf!"

Sure enough, it _was._ The small dog bounded out of the closet and leapt somewhere behind Emberlynn. She turned around just in time to see it jump onto Eater and start licking his face.

"A teacup German Shepherd," she muttered, shaking her head.

The door abruptly opened. A ghost girl appeared, hastily closing the door as she was wearing nothing but her underwear. Behind her, another girl - a halfa this time - phased through.

"Thanks," the halfa grumbled. "Didn't your parents _ever_ teach you not to shut the door in someone's face?"

"Sorry!" the ghost exclaimed, darting over to the closet. Before Emberlynn could blink twice, she'd pulled out a uniform and was hurriedly putting it on.

"So, you guys are...?" the halfa wondered.

"Emberlynn."

"Underwear Eater," came from somewhere under the dog, which despite its small size covered a whole lot of ground.

"Eew," she muttered. "Are you sure he's supposed to be in here?"

Emberlynn nodded. "Yep. Room twenty-seven, same as us. What's your name?"

"Winifred Sanderson."

The ghost girl, having dressed herself, rolled her eyes. "Dork."

"I liked the movie," Winifred explained, shrugging.

"I'm Starving Weasel, thanks for asking," the ghost grumbled.

Winifred grinned mischevously. "Dork."

"I was getting to it," Emberlynn protested. "Anybody else supposed to be in here?"

"Two more, by the looks of it," Weasel answered. Indeed, there were three sets of beds.

"Better be some more boys," Eater remarked, wrestling off the dog.

"Somebody call?"

Emberlynn turned to see a head sticking through the wall. A male, but fairly ordinary-looking head. "And you are..."

He suddenly fell into the room, and another boy came in the door. "My ugly brother," the second kid explained. "What're all these girls doing in here?"

"The staff is evil," Emberlynn answered. "You have to share a room with girls."

"Yuck."

"Anyway, I'm Emberlynn Fenten."

"Ian Masters," said the second boy -- probably a halfa.

"James LeTourneau," said his 'ugly brother', who seemed to be a ghost.

Further introductions were passed, people got dressed, and the matter of beds was brought up. "I have A," Emberlynn said. "Who else?"

"Me," James answered, holding up a hand.

"Great."

"I call top bunk!"

"Have it your way."

"I'm C," Weasel remarked gloomily. She had perfect reason -- Underwear Eater was in C as well.

"Goodie," Winifred remarked. "I get Ian."

"Well, that's cosy," Emberlynn remarked. "Boy-girl, boy-"

Something huge and heavy struck her on the head, knocking her to the ground. Pain shot through her body, especially the parts that had been noshed upon.

"What was _that?_" she demanded.

"It's a Z," remarked Ian, who had strode over to her and was picking up the object in question.

"A Z? Why on Earth would a Z fall on my head?" She attempted to sit up, but the clever construction of the Z and floor had assured that she was in much pain. Still, she couldn't stay on the floor, so she grabbed onto Ian's leg and pulled herself up against the will of her screaming joints.

He ignored her, continuing to stare at the object with a look of wonder on his face. "You said 'cosy'," he observed.

"So?" she grunted, groping onto his arm for support. Her bitten leg suddenly didn't want to work anymore.

"The word is supposed to be 'cozy'," he pointed out.

Daylight glimmered. "So the Z is supposed to be a reminder."

"Yup."

"I _hate_ this University!" she wailed, turning loose of Ian's arm and falling conveniently onto the nearby bed - and Eater. "I wanna go home!"

"Nope," Eater grunted, shoving Emberlynn off his legs and back onto the floor, resulting in more pain. "No dropping out."

Emberlynn let out a foul word and pulled herself up onto another bed, head throbbing almost as badly as her sore leg. "I hate this school."

"ATTENTION, STUDENTS," a voice blared, ringing nastily in her pounding head. "THE TIME IS NOW TWELVE HUNDRED HOURS. LUNCH WILL BE SERVED AT TWELVE-THIRTY PROMPT IN THE GREAT HALL."

"It's already noon?" Weasel wondered aloud. "And they didn't give us any breakfast!"

Emberlynn's stomach growled loudly, and suddenly felt extremely hollow. It just figured.

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_I _can't_ go to lunch like this, _Nicholas moaned inwardly, struggling to tie her super-long hair into a ponytail. "Hellfire, could you give me a hand with this thing?"

"Sure," the redhead answered, hopping down from her bed in a disgustingly graceful manner. She walked over to Nicholas and held out her hand. "Give it here."

Gratefully, the evil red now-girl ghost (quite the title there, she noticed) handed Hellfire the ponytail holder and watched in the mirror as the redhead skillfully wrapped it around that ridiculously long and vaguely red-streaked black hair. Definitely, the walls had ears, and Nicholas wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

"Thanks," she grunted once the deed was done.

"No problem," Hellfire answered. "And yes, you _can_ go to lunch. Nobody'll recognize you, even if they _did_ remember what you looked like as a guy. You're much prettier now."

This was an insult to his looks as a male. Reflexively, he wheeled around and hurled a flaming fist into Hellfire's stomach, knocking her back into Dorian Grey. Dorian, in turn, fell back onto the floor.

Orange flame blazed in Hellfire's eyes as she picked herself up off Dorian's fallen body. "Jerk!" she spat hotly. "See if I help you again!"

Nicholas glared at her with equal rage. "Don't insult my guy face," she hissed.

"I wasn't!" she exclaimed. "I just said you were pretty!"

"You _said-_"

"ATTENTION, STUDENTS! IT IS NOW TWELVE-FIFTEEN HOURS! LUNCH WILL BE SERVED AT TWELVE-THIRTY PROMPT IN THE GREAT HALL!"

"Lunch," Demetria announced.

Still glaring at Nicholas, Hellfire stalked out of the room, followed by the Clan of Evil (who now included Nasty Natalie and Ophelia 13) and Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, as well as a few that Nicholas hadn't met yet. She hated Miss Morgan already. This was _her_ fault. Stupid assistant headmistress.


	5. Food & Females

Happy New Year, everybody! And here we have the fifth chapter of the Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park. Enjoy!

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Chapter 5: Food & Females

Emberlynn inhaled deeply as she stepped into the Great Hall. It was filled, she noticed, with the scent and sight of all manner of... disgusting foods. Not overtly disgusting, but definitely the kind of thing the Lunch Lady would cook. Yecch.

The room was filled with long tables, no doubt conjured by Miss Morgan. The humans were seated at one table, while two more were filled with all manner of motley creatures. As she and her roomates stepped off the stairs, she noticed that the humans were all wearing green goggles -- as were Ed, Dash, Jack, Jazz and Maddie at the staff table. That particular line of view led her to a figure draped in a deep red cloak at the head of the table. The Headmaster?

Actually, on closer inspection, the food didn't smell too bad. And even if it did, she was still starving. Emberlynn hastily took a seat next to a group of girls who were chattering in a serious manner that was almost disturbing to hear. No one was eating yet, however.

"Attention, students!" Miss Morgan exclaimed, no doubt through the megaphone she'd had by her plate. "Before we begin, we are going to recite the Twelve Codes of OFUAP."

She paused for a moment, and several groans could be heard.

"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming. All right, you guys, when I say one of the Codes, you are all to repeat it. Code Number One: Learn through pain."

"Code Number One: Learn through pain," the soon-to-be students repeated.

"Code Number Two: Attraction is acceptable. Lust is not."

"Code Number Two: Attraction is acceptable. Lust is not."

Emberlynn couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl who'd pronounced it as "acceptible", for a large letter A soon after came crashing down on her head.

"Code Number Three: Beware Samuel the Flayer, for he eats your lusty dreams."

The teenagers repeated it dully.

"Code Number Four: Do not underestimate ghost iguanas."

Again.

"Code Number Five: Desiree and Miss Miktayee do not have a sense of humor, except where it coincides with Miss Morgan."

And it was repeated.

This went on with Code Number Six: Miss Morgan's full name is not Morgan LeFay ("and that's Morgan, not Morgana," she added sternly), Code Number Seven: Many of the staff have superpowers, and those who _don't_ report directly to those who _do_, Code Number Eight: Every class has a purpose, Code Number Nine: It is not our duty to know the Headmaster, and Code Number Ten: No one shall enter the staff section without written permission from Miss Morgan or unless accompanied by a staff member. Then there was a pause.

"Is that all?" someone asked.

"THEY ARE THE TWELVE CODES, NOT THE TEN CODES!" Morgan bellowed. "INVISOBIL!"

Another ghost iguana popped into the student's lap. It didn't bite him, however; instead, it latched its vicious iguana claws into his shirt and clambered up onto his head.

"Remember that as you feel his pointy little claws digging into your scalp," she ordered. "Also, I believe that a few more codes are in order, but that can wait. Code Number Eleven: If you can outmaneuver Stretch and withstand Stinky's breath, Fatso will eat you."

"If you can outmaneuver Stretch..." How could _anyone_ withstand Stinky's breath? Yecch.

"Rule Number Twelve: None shall write fanfiction unless directed to do so by a teacher."

And it was repeated.

"That is all for today. You may eat. I will announce the revised edition of the Codes tomorrow, and then we will recite _those._"

Groans mingled with sighs of relief, and the collection of students set about getting food.

Scooping some kind of beef-avocado mush onto her plate, Emberlynn noticed that the students to her left had taken on a much more serious tone.

"That cloaked guy has _got_ to be the headmaster," one of them insisted.

"Definitely," her friend agreed. "But you just can't see his _face!_"

"It's frustrating," the third one remarked. "I think I've got an idea, though."

The girls glanced around, then leaned closer together. Emberlynn had to strain to hear their voices. "We all leave the table, seperate, and go ghost," she explained. "Then we turn intangible, sink into the floor and come up right behind him. Then we'll yank off his cloak."

"Sounds good," her friend answered. "How do we leave the table without being noticed?"

"You go first, " she explained. "Head toward the habitat ring like you have to go to the bathroom. Don't make a show about it."

Emberlynn forced herself to eat the goop she'd acquired.

"Then you-" she looked over at the second girl "-drop something on the floor. Crawl down to get it. Just fall in right then. Nobody can see you. All I have to do then is use the same bathroom ruse. Enough time will have elapsed by then. We'll meet up under the staff table, then head for the Headmaster."

The girls agreed that it was a good idea, then the first mover skulked away. Emberlynn turned her attention back to her plate. If the plan succeeded, it would be definitely interesting to find out who the Headmaster was. If not, she was just glad she wasn't a part of it. Word of unusual punishments was already beginning to spread among the students.

Finishing the mash, she glanced around to see if there was anything more edible-looking on the table. Ah -- some fairly normal-looking bread with butter. She quickly seized a piece and bit into it. And gagged. What was _on_ this stuff? It tasted like three-year-old dead... celery!

Still, bread was bread. Particularily, lunch was lunch. So she ate it, rolled up very tightly. The bread helped to diffuse some of the flavor that way.

Looking over, she could see that both of the girls had now made their exits. Curious, she looked over at the staff table. Danny Phantom and Fenton were sitting next to each other, laughing about something -- probably orientation. Vlad Masters - the _only_ Vlad at the table, she noticed - was chatting amiably with both Jack Fenton and Miss Morgan.

Hmm... something struck Emberlynn about Vlad's face. It didn't really look like his normal face, anymore than the Dannys' faces really looked like cartoon drawings. She squinted closer. Whoever had designed these guys had obviously taken more creative license than should have been allowed, because Vlad was... decidedly... _hott._

Emberlynn shuddered. _Eew. That's not right._ How could Vlad Masters be hott? He was a creepy old man!

She looked somewhere else, hoping that the image would leave her mind. It didn't, but she discovered that Miss Miktayee seemed to be having a friendly conversation with Jazz, while the Trio of Odious Uncles were apparently _lecturing_ the Box Ghost. Maddie, on Jack's other side - eyes _away_ from Vlad, eew! - was having some manner of serious discussion with Mr. Lancer. Dash Baxter was... talking to Tucker Foley? He was! And it seemed to be a serious conversation at that. Neither of them were threatening each other or anything, just chattering happily as Ed did strange things with their hair.

And the Headmaster... was about to be jumped.

Suddenly, a flash of light emitted from the cloaked figure. The girls became suddenly human and visible as they fell to the floor with an ear-splitting _crunch._

"Code Number Nine: It is not our duty to know the Headmaster," someone recited. Probably Miss Morgan, though it sounded more like a constipated druggie. Groaning, the girls picked themselves up and, as one, glared in the general direction of the staff table.

Miss Morgan snickered. "First major offense of the year. Miktayee, they're yours."

Feeling particularily glad that she hadn't been a part of the attempt, Emberlynn choked down another bite of celery bread.

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"First of all, not even _I_ know who the headmaster/mistress is, and if _I_ don't know, what makes you think _I'm_ going to let _you_ know?" Miss Miktayee looked at the students with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway, your crime is as follows: Attempting to Jump the Headwhatever during Lunch. Well, then. To your punishment." Miss Miktayee grinned. "Your awesome, _delicious_ punishment."

Delicious punishment? What did _that_ entail?

"It's been well-noted that you students do not Eat Your Veggies like you should. Well, we've been saving all the vegetables you under-vitamined pipsqueaks haven't been eating... and we've been saving them just for today."

Suddenly, a splat of vegetables dropped from above onto the three students.

"We don't have to _eat_ these, do we?" one of the students whimpered.

"No. You do not have to eat them."

"I suppose you're going to make us clean them up, then," another said disgustedly.

"No. I am not going to make you clean them up."

"Then what are you going to do?" the third asked.

"Fortunately, certain animals that live here are herbivores, and will gladly clean and eat up the veggies for you." Syera reached into her pocket and pulled out a whistle. With a gleam in her eye, she put it to her lips and blew. "Please, welcome Dani, Invisobil, and Samanth. And introducing Will the Girl, Luncer, and Skultor. Oh, and Bakster the Glutton. _They_ will clean up the veggies, and _they_ will see to it that not a fiber of vegetable remains on your little pink angel shirts."

Indeed, six little ghost iguanas and one very fat ghost iguana materialized into the room, beady green eyes glowing eagerly.

Miss Miktayee smiled at the iguanas. "Sic 'em, boys and girls." With that, she turned around and walked out of the room. "Remember, students - eat your veggies! Oh, and when you're done... please make sure you tuck in the iguanas for the night. And give them their goodnight kiss - they won't go to sleep without it. And you may just have to read them a bedtime story..."

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"Welcome to Halfa, Ghost and Other Miscellaneous Freaks Power Training," announced Danny Phantom evilly, rubbing his sexy-thin hands together as a horrible smirk made itself evident on his pretty face. "I shall now instruct you in how to use your powers."

Lunch was over. Emberlynn had positively no idea where the three girls had gone, but they sure weren't here. Well, they'd probably catch up later.

"Before we begin, Miss Morgan says you ought to know that she found Dash and Tucker's Lust Enhancer and shut it off, so all those dirty thoughts Samuel's been eating shouldn't be so bad anymore. Anyway, I've noticed that a lot of you halfas have already figured out how to access your ghost forms. Congratulations -- and those of you who didn't, don't feel too bad. It's not as easy as we make it look.

"Also, a fair chunk of all of you powered kids have figured out how to _use_ your powers. Now, you probably think that's pretty spiffy 'n'all, but the truth is, that's nothing. See, being as how you're new to the whole thing, your powers are still pretty weak. In fact, they probably couldn't hurt much more than the Box Ghost.

"But anyway, let's get started here. I imagine a lot of you ghosts and halfas have had problems suddenly going intangible and things like that. Congratulations, now you know how my normal half feels. Anyway, if you don't want to spend the rest of the school year falling through stairs, you need to focus on remaining tangible all the time. 'Course, after a few months, it should get to be kind of second nature and you won't have to worry about it. But in the meantime, think tangible.

"Okay. Now that we're through with that, I imagine all of you halfas who haven't already managed are wondering how you access your ghost forms." He grinned for a moment, the sort of expression that suggested he was lording this over them. "Much as I'd like to complicate it, all you really need to do is think about becoming a ghost. Not what you'd look like as a ghost, just general ghostliness. You can't really explain it any better than girls can explain boys, but that's it."

He looked pointedly at Abercrombie Fauntleroy. "If you're trying to figure out what makes a ghost, you're trying too hard. Okay, everybody, go into your ghost forms."

Several did so immediately. Emberlynn frowned. Ghostliness? What _was_ ghostliness? If figuring it out was trying too hard, then how were you supposed to know?

_Because they're not that complicated,_ her inner reasoning said. _They're just ghosts by nature._

_What kind of nature? They can turn intangible and invisible and do things with ectoplasm... and they're usually sadistic._

_But that's not what makes them different from humans. Because those are superficial differences._

_Then what?_

Inner reason went a bit deeper, and presently deduced that ghosts were ghosts because they were ghosts, and therefore they were not anything else and that was that.

But weren't ghosts basically the same as humans? As far as she was concerned, they were no different from humans except that they looked and acted different.

_But they're not the same as humans, because they're ghosts._ But weren't halfas humans that behaved like ghosts? Somehow, something told her that when halfas went ghost, they really turned into ghosts. Just like they were really humans in human form. So she wouldn't have any human left? Eew.

No, that wasn't right. Halfas in human form were still a little ghost, so in ghost form she'd still be a little human. Somehow, that didn't seem so bad.

So she thought about being mostly ghost. Yes, that was definitely okay. She'd stow away her major human-ness in favor of awesome ghostity. Be a ghost... or mostly a ghost.

It wasn't until the bluish-green ring passed in front of her eyes that she realized she'd succeeded.

"Very good," Danny remarked dryly. "Now we get to work on the hard stuff."


	6. Classes & Crap

Happy Late Valentine's Day! The chapter's a little late, too, but I've been horrifically sick for the past week. In this chapter, we learn "Why You Shouldn't Be Mouthy To The Entrance Forms", among other things.

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Chapter 6: Classes & Crap

The next morning, when Nicholas woke up, he felt particularily sour.

Then he remembered why.

"He" was a girl.

Growling to herself, she crawled out of bed and slunk toward the closet. She'd put her dinosaur pajamas back on the night before, and now had to suffer the harrowing indignity of seeing herself naked. _Yuck._

At least nobody else would see her. The Clan of Evil (which had, since lunch, enlarged to include Abercrombie Fauntleroy, Georgina Radcliffe and Trogdor the Burninator) were, for the most part, still in bed, so she'd have the bathroom to herself. She seized a uniform grumpily from the closet and marched into said region of privacy.

Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged was in there.

Nicholas muttered a small curse and made her way into one of the stalls, pulling the curtain shut. It didn't do any good, though -- the thing was transparent. Well, she'd just get it over with. Quick as she could, and trying not to look, she slipped out of her pajamas -- and discovered something very disconcerting.

On her entrance form, she'd _said_ she was expecting her period. And now she was paying for it. Which was odd, because one wouldn't normally expect a ghost to exhibit such behavior.

"HELLFIRE!"

It took a moment, but the hollered-for girl showed up at the stall. "What's the matter?"

"Uh..." How was she going to _say_ this? It was the ultimate embarassment. "You know that thing that..."

"What?" Hellfire prompted.

Hesitantly, Nicholas crept up to the curtain and whispered the situation to Hellfire.

A grin spread across her face. "Oh. Hold on a minute, I'll get my purse."

She disappeared, and presently Nicholas heard a very sadistic laugh from the direction of the bedroom. She scowled, but refrained from emitting any particular noise until the girl's return.

"Here you go," the redhead said, handing Nicholas an object which, to her way of thinking, was the Packet of Doom as much as anything else. "And there's probably some more around here. They _should_ keep the bathroom stocked."

"Yeah, thanks," Nicholas grumbled. Then, staring at the Packet of Doom, she realized that she was presently lacking in underwear. Her next request of Hellfire was mingled with occasional curses.

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BOOOOOOONG BOOOOOOONG BOOOOOOONG...

Emberlynn awoke with a start, promptly rolling off her bed and onto the incredibly hard floor before she realized quite where she was. As she became aware of her surroundings, she also became aware of a horrible headache that pounded with the clanging bells.

"I hate this University," she grunted. This, she realized, was quickly becoming a catchphrase of sorts -- and with darned good reason, too. All ambient forces seemed to be working to make her as miserable as humanly possible. Dang, why couldn't she have slept longer? She was having this incredible dream! It had started out just like yesterday's tour, then gotten to the staff section. Instead of skipping that bit like they had yesterday, though, Danny Phantom led them into the area, showing them each one.

And in one room, Danny Fenton was happily snoozing in his black leather boxers. Thinking back on it, it was kind of ridiculous, but she'd found it really cute at the time. She'd snuck away from the rest of the group and into his room... then what?

She couldn't remember.

The bells had died down, but were being replaced with an equally grinding noise. "ATTENTION, STUDENTS! IT IS NOW OH-SEVEN-HUNDRED HOURS! BREAKFAST WILL BE SERVED AT SEVEN-FIFTEEN PROMPT IN THE GREAT HALL!"

Great. She had exactly fifteen minutes to get ready and down to breakfast. She hauled herself up from the floor, careful not to step on the German Shepherd (who, she'd learned, was named Riley), and went to fetch her clothes.

It was the same old uniform, the one whose grey parts turned green in ghost mode. She hated the design. It was too loose, too baggy. It hid her only half-developed chest. This meant that there was no way Danny would ever see how cute she was.

Around her, the students who had still been sleeping were also climbing out of bed and retrieving their uniforms. Having been introduced to the transparent bathroom curtains, Emberlynn instead squeezed into the closet and began to change. Since she hadn't worn pajamas to the University, she'd been issued more grey-and-white stuff, which looked disturbingly like her day clothes. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her green jewelry and stepped back outside.

The others were nowhere to be seen. Somewhat puzzled at this, she grabbed a hairbrush from a closet shelf and ran it hurriedly through her hair, admiring its silky blackness as she did so. It was so pretty now -- a pretty good trade-off for her regressed age. She then fastened her necklace around her neck and slipped the wires of her earrings through her ears. There, she was officially Emberlynn Fenten. Joined by most of the missing students, she headed for the door, the soles of her white sneakers scuffing against the floorboards in a particularily irritating manner.

Breakfast was much the same as yesterday's lunch and dinner, with one minor exception: the revised Codes. Miss Morgan had added 13: Obstreperous breaking of rules will result in revokement of exploration privledges and 14: There are 14 codes at the moment, this number is subject to increase only. It was also more like dinner than lunch, as no one attempted to unmask the Headmaster after hearing the girls' harrowing tale of being chewed on and licked at by ravenous iguanas. Having heard the story herself, Emberlynn had resolved to eat more vegetables in the future and had forced herself that evening to consume some kind of green-bean paste.

Once breakfast was over, Miss Morgan ordered the students in general to report to the room marked as the first Monday class on their schedule. (Convenient, Emberlynn noticed, how September first coincided perfectly with Monday.) Hers was _Ghost Physiology 101_, she noted. Now where was that again? On the first floor, through the door on the right. (Apparently the ground floor was huge -- the staff section, where all the good stuff was, covered the entire area beneath the habitat ring and inner offices, while the classrooms snaked around the outside.)

Upon finding her class, Emberlynn slipped inside. It had been well-disorganized, she noticed -- none of her roommates were anywhere to be found, and there were several humans in the class. Several of the back seats were already taken (clearly, normal school rules applied here), so she contented herself with a middler location. Over time, the room filled until there was not a seat unoccupied, and then Jack and Maddie Fenton entered the room.

"Hi, kids!" Jack exclaimed, waving cheerfully as Maddie took position on the other side of the desk. "Welcome to _Ghost Physiology 101_!"

"Before we start, Miss Morgan wants us to address the students on a few points," Maddie announced.

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Dash picked up a sheet of paper and squinted at it through his goggles before speaking. "Uh, firstly, let it hereby be known that despite the existence of only two or three classes per day, this school shall be anything but easy. Classes will be long and ludicrously... arduous."

Nicholas yawned and dropped her head on the desk. She just _had_ to have Dash Baxter for the first class. When did they get to the stuff with Jazz? According to what she'd heard, though, nobody had _Why There Aren't More Halfas_ on Monday.

"Secondly, let it also be known that on Saturday this week there shall be a Homecoming Dance, so to speak. Though as this is not a home to which you have returned, it shall hence...forth not be known as a Homecoming Dance, but as a Dance of Unneccesary Circumstance. Miss Morgan has precisely un-randomly selected a single student from each class to form the Unneccesary Circumstance Committee. For those of you who are unaware of this, there are six classes."

He looked up, gave the students a large smile, then glanced back down at his sheet. "The Unneccesary Cirmumstance Committee Representative for our class is... Nicholas Diablo."

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Emberlynn could scarcely believe it. _She_ was on the committee? It seemed almost too good to be true.

"She says, though, that before you get too enthusiastic, you should know that the other committee members have been specifically chosen to conflict with your ideas, so you should get together as soon as possible to work on your ideas," Maddie informed her. "And for those of you who were not chosen, feel lucky that you'll get some _real_ free time this week."

"So," said Jack, "you kids got your notebooks?"

He was suddenly the recipient of several blank stares.

"Right," he frowned. "Uh, they're in your Fenton Desks. Just push the button on the side."

Emberlynn quickly located the button, becoming aware at roughly the same time of Jack's face emblazoned on the desk surface, and pressed it. The top sprung open to reveal several very thick Fenton-print notebooks and a box of... Fenton Pencils. Of course. All the class equipment was Fenton manufactured. Go figure.

"You'll all be wanting to take notes," he warned them. "There'll be a test at the end of the semester."

Maddie cleared her throat. "If you fail, you will have to take the class again next semester. If enough of you fail, you will all retake the class. Is that understood?"

A sea of nods were her response.

"Good, let's begin."

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Dash stood up straighter and tossed off his jacket, much to the squeals and giggles of several fangirls. "Okay, everybody. Now, before y'all get to thinking I'm some kinda idiot, you should know that I actually do have a brain in here." He tapped the side of his head. "I just don't much like using it. Anyway, Miss Morgan says that all the major antagonists you guys write have some kinda cool powers-" he seemed to look straight at Nicholas as he said this "-so I'm gonna teach you how to be a good antagonist _without_ any powers.

"Today, we're gonna focus on my favorite -- the brawn. Be a big, tough guy like me, and you can easily get away with stuffin' little guys into lockers. 'Course, I can't do any Danny-stuffing here, but Miss Morgan says if you misbehave I can stuff you guys into your lockers."

"You can stuff me into mine any time you want!" a fangirl exclaimed girlishly.

"Sure, sometime after classes. I'll bring Bakster. Anyway, it's not enough to be big 'n' tough. You gotta have the whole steroids look goin', otherwise you get looking too serious. And you're not really trying to be a serious villain, you're just trying to be really, really ornery. Keep your hair cut short, too. It should be somewhere between a half-inch and an inch-and-a-half long for the right look. Or, if you really wanna look mean, shave it all off." He paused, and looked around the room. Following his gaze, Nicholas noticed that most of the students were staring at Dash blankly. Seeing this, the token-bully-turned-teacher glared at the class and let out a tremendous roar: "TAKE NOTES, PEOPLE!"

Of course. Notes. Nicholas had a particular suspicion it wouldn't matter in the end, but she scribbled some important things into her notebook anyway. There might be a test, and she had to _pass_ the school to get her liscense back.

"Of course, you gotta get yourself onto some kind of sports team. Football's the best, 'cause it takes so much raw muscle, but you could do wrestling or maybe track."

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"Before we begin, can anyone tell me what makes a ghost different from a human?" Maddie asked.

A hand went up.

"Myrissa Rippen."

"Because they can fly and shoot ectoplasm and stuff?"

Maddie shook her head. "They are different in that regard, but that's not what makes them different. Anyone else?"

Emberlynn raised her hand. She knew this one.

"Emberlynn Fenten."

"Because they're not humans," she answered.

Maddie frowned and crossed her arms. "That is true, but it's a little more complicated than that."

"You see," said Jack, "ghosts are made of something called..." here he paused to pick up a piece of chalk, "ectoplasm." He scribbled that particular word onto the blackboard. "It's a kind of, uh..." He paused for a moment. "seperate element. Whereas humans are carbon-based lifeforms, ghosts are ectoplasm-based."

Maddie held out her hand, and Jack handed her the piece of chalk. "I know it seems totally improbable, but ectoplasm actually accounts for many of the anomalies that have occured as a result of ghosts. It has several unique properties, such as the ability to become weightless-" she sketched a floating ghost on the blackboard, "-or travel into another phase of existence entirely." She drew a semi-invisible ghost poking halfway through a wall, then gave the chalk back to Jack.

"But the most incredible property of ectoplasm that we've noticed so far is its energy output," Jack remarked, sketching an ordinary ghost. "While a human, which burns carbon for fuel, produces the level of energy he or she requires for a few days, a ghost, burning ectoplasm for fuel, produces an incredible surplus. This provides the energy required for some of their more flamboyant powers, like ectoplasm bursts or shields."

Someone's hand went up.

"Yes, Duck Lady?"

"Halfas don't burn ectoplasm for fuel, right? So where do they get the energy required to use their powers?"

"Uh..." Jack frowned.

"That will be covered in _Halfa Physiology 101_," Maddie answered.

"Right."

"Now, I'm sure what several of you are _really_ wanting to know is, Are ghosts dead? In the literal sense, as in dead people? Well, honestly, we're not really sure." She laughed. "However, we have hypothesized that a few spirits, after death, are so insistent on not being dead that they find a cloud of ectoplasm and shape it into a new body."

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The day droned on. The ridiculously long Villain Without Powers class rolled into the equally long _Ghost Physiology 101_ class. When that finally let out, Nicholas was so relieved to be done with desks and notebooks that she nearly forgot about _Fighting Ghosts_.

She was quickly reminded, though, when her class was ordered to change into more sports-worthy versions of their uniforms and herded out the back door into an open area. Getting her first glimpse of outside, she could see that the University was seated at least partly in an old and creepy-looking forest. The rickety-looking fence that seperated the two areas was overhung and occasionally perforated by low branches in several areas.

Many of the fans were chattering or arguing amongst themselves about one thing or another. Nicholas simply snorted. She had plenty of things to worry about - like being a girl and being on the Unneccesary Circumstance dance committee - without starting arguments.

Then Danny appeared, much to the squeals of several girls. Nicholas rolled her eyes. Didn't they _ever_ get tired?

Apparently not. The fangirls were stampeding again.

"Plasmus! Plasimus! Luncer! Fentun!"

The resulting fiasco was, in essence, a repeat of the Orientation incident -- though, judging by the ectoplasmic explosions, much more painful. Nicholas couldn't help but wonder, as she dodged flying fangirls, if they would _ever_ quit. Undoubtedly not.

Once the dust had settled, Danny grabbed a microphone from some inconspicuous pocket-dimension and held it near his mouth, green eyes sweeping over the entirety of the crowd. "Welcome to _Fighting Ghosts_," he greeted. "Since this is your first such a class, you should know that you can rest assured, we won't be going easy on you."

While a collective groan swept through much of the crowd, Nicholas simply snorted. In the short time she'd spent in the University, she'd quickly noticed that the faculty seemed to have a particular attitude -- particular, but harmless. Yes, Nicholas _was_ a girl at the moment (she was going to _get_ Miss Morgan for that), but so far none of the students had been particularily hurt, as far as she could tell.

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Emberlynn, on the other hand, was one of the students to groan. She'd been involved in the previous stampede - she wanted to be the _first_ to get to Danny! - and did not in the least bit relish more pain in addition to her flaming or otherwise throbbing limbs.

"Now that everybody's settled down, I probably oughta tell you guys that, since Miss Morgan didn't want anybody to have _Fighting Ghosts_ as their first class, we're doing two groups at once here, which is why there are about twice as many students now as there were. Just so we've cleared that up. You human students have been issued ghost-effective weaponry; it should be raining down on your heads or something right now."

Indeed, some curious-looking green-and-silver guns began falling from the sky. They landed on surprisingly few heads, however, having aimed for the humans' feet instead.

"There we go. Okay, I want all you halfas to go ghost, then we'll meet the guest teacher for today."

Emberlynn found it much easier this time. Also, surprisingly, there was more than a superficial change -- she actually felt somewhat lighter, and her sore extremities didn't hurt so much.

"All right, students. It is my deep and sadistic pleasure - whoops, did I say that out loud? - to introduce the Lunch Lady."

The aforementioned ghost popped into the room, holding a skillet and ladle in a manner that didn't seem particularily threatening.

"Since this was the first ghost I fought officially, we figured it was appropriate that you guys got to do her first, too. I'm gonna call someone's name now, and when I do that you get to come up here and beat up on her. The reason for this class, so you guys don't ask, is so that you understand properly what I've been through and _hopefully _learn to quit writing ultra-powerful characters that near kill me."

Nicholas found this ludicrously stupid. What was _wrong_ with writing ultra-powerful characters? The whole idea of ghost battles in stories was to challenge Danny, push him to his limits. And prove that there were some characters he just _couldn't_ beat.

Then the character would join his side, and Danny would finally have a friend who was more awesome than he was. He wouldn't be able to stand it. He'd join Plasmius to increase his power, and wind up becoming this friend's arch-nemesis. Then he'd turn back to the side of good upon realizing that he'd nearly killed his own sister.

That would make an _excellent_ plot twist!

"Nicholas Diablo," said Danny, "since you've got such great ideas about how powerful a ghost ought to be, how 'bout you come over here and show everyone?"

Nicholas briefly wondered how he could have known that, but figured that someone had probably read her fanfiction and thus didn't worry too much about it. Instead, she gave an evil smirk and began shoving through the crowd toward Danny. "With pleasure."

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind. She was a ghost... a _real_ ghost, with ghost powers. Maybe she could just fly over to the Lunch Lady. She'd managed it in Orientation yesterday, and if she was going to fight a ghost, she'd better have a grip on what she was doing.

How was it she'd done that, again? Oh, yeah. Just leave the floor. Easiest thing in the world -- though some halfas seemed to have had a time with it, amusingly enough.

So she left the floor in a manner quite simple, noting that her legs seemed to essentially dissolve in the process. Then she quite easily flew over to where Danny was waiting, feeling somewhat accomplished.

"Great," Danny remarked, sounding as entirely unimpressed as he could possibly manage. "I see you're not going to get squashed right away."

Well, in retrospect, it wasn't _that_ great of an achievement. After all, ghosts flew all the time.

"Now, I probably oughta tell you that the clothes you're wearing... they've been designed to repress your powers. Y'know, keep you from getting hurt 'n' stuff. I'm gonna turn those off now."

Nicholas folded her arms. "Okay."

Danny reached down to a device - a garage door opener of sorts - that hung from his belt, and pressed its single green button.

A flash of white-hot pain suddenly swept through Nicholas, then vanished, the only trace of its erstwhile existence being a peculiar warmth flooding through her limbs. Then, as spontaneously as odiously, her entire body burst into flame.

This was apparently something of amusement to Danny, as he began laughing. His feet lifted quickly from the ground, and before long the halfa was rolling in the air, giggling hysterically.

Nicholas scowled. "Making a point, Phantom?"

Danny suddenly turned serious again, oversized feet hitting the ground in a way that showed off his attractively long legs... _No, I will not think such thoughts._ She'd spent the last seventeen years of her life as a boy, and she'd be a boy again. No matter what the Codes said, attraction toward Danny was _not_ acceptable for her. Even if he had incredible legs.

"That's why your powers were stifled," he explained. "Some of you had it into your heads that your powers were way more powerful than you could really control. Nicholas... you should probably focus that before you get started."

No problem. Nicholas focused on the fire engulfing her, concentrated on reining it in. It took little more than a second for the flames to disappear, though the heat in her body increased dramatically and uncomfortably.

Danny grinned. "Try to keep that under control while you whoop on the Lunch Lady... and have fun." He disappeared, leaving only a faint outline visible as he crept away from the area.

A cackle sounded from somewhere behind Nicholas, and she instinctively floated up a few feet as she turned around to face the Lunch Lady. Then she cackled a bit herself. "Bring it."

That particular ghost, who had seemed so unintimidating on the show, held up her ladle. It had filled with some kind of meaty ectoplasmic goo, which she hurled at Nicholas. Thinking quickly, the young ghost flew up out of the way, snickering. This was supposed to be _hard?_ Laughing, she focused some of her heat into a very large fireball and prepared to throw it at the Lunch Lady.

The fireball, however, had plans of its own. As soon as Nicholas flung it toward that particular ghost, it sucked a good bit more of her power into its mass -- then fell flat, as its present density was much more than the thrust she'd put into it. Flat onto its creator.

Being a fire-element ghost, Nicholas was naturally resistant to fire... but only to an extent.

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Emberlynn winced as Nicholas attempted to "kick-butt" the Lunch Lady. It had taken several moments for him - or was that a girl? - to get his/her powers under control, and by that time the opposing ghost had landed far more painful-looking attacks than the red teen.

Emberlynn was sure glad she hadn't gone first.


	7. Pain & Planning

Here you go. The next chapter, and you didn't even have to wait a _whole_ month. (Snickersnort) Seriously, I would have put this up earlier, but March has been going by so fast I could hardly keep up -- at one point, three entire days went by in what felt like just a couple of hours. It's just lucky I caught myself when I did. (It also doesn't help that February's so short; any other month it would only be the eighteenth or nineteenth.)

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Chapter 7: Pain & Planning

Nicholas was feeling particularily angry.

It had all started yesterday afternoon, when Miss Morgan had turned her into a girl. Then this morning, she'd been shoved onto the Unneccesary Circumstance committee. Then the _Fighting Ghosts_ class...

She shuddered. Danny had refused to reactivate her uniform afterward, and flaming pain still shot through several joints and various extremities as she walked. Who would ever have thought that controlling your powers would be _hard?_

She probably wouldn't have been so furious about the committee bit, except that she'd been rounded up by Skulker, immediately after lunch, and shuttled off to the Unneccesary Circumstance Committee Meeting Centre, which was curiously located very closely to the staff area.

When she headed inside, five other students were already waiting for her. All female. So she was the _only _boy in the committee? Just peachy.

"'Bout time you got here," one of them remarked. "We need to start work on the plan."

Nicholas nodded, sitting on the floor as there were absolutely no chairs in the room. "Yeah, dance. Whatever. You guys have fun."

"No," said another girl, green eyes blazing eerily... and familiarly. "We mean, the staff section plan."

Nicholas yawned. "What's that?"

"We're gonna sneak into the staff area!" exclaimed the third. "Since we're so close, we don't have to worry about anyone seeing us acting suspicious. We just have to figure out how to get past the ghosts."

Nicholas shrugged. "Ghost powers."

"No way," said the fourth, shaking her blonde head fervently. "Everybody'd hear it."

"I've got an idea!" exclaimed the fifth girl. "All we have to do is phase through that wall. We can sneak right past security and come out on the other side."

"What about me?" the sixth girl wanted to know. "I'm a human."

"Duh, somebody'll grab onto you. Don't you ever watch the cartoons?"

The human girl seemed about to make a retort, but suddenly the door opened and Vlad Masters stepped in. "Hello, ladies," he greeted. "Sorry I'm late. Care to fill me in on what I've missed?"

The blonde shook her head, large smile immediately plastered onto her face. "Nothing."

Nicholas, though, was a little more perturbed as to why _Vlad_ was there, in a room full of teenage girls. "What are you doing here?" she wanted to know.

"Weren't you informed? I am to be your committee supervisor." He paused, then blinked and pulled a peculiar object from somewhere inside his coat. Part of it resembled the goggles all humans had been issued, but the rest of it resembled a pair of green earmuffs. He put this on, and immediately looked so ridiculous that the thing _must_ have been invented by Jack Fenton.

"Nobody told us," the green-eyed brunette remarked, eyeing Vlad with a suspicious and slightly pained expression. Where _had_ Nicholas seen that face?

"Oh, well, she must have forgotten." He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs in a very manly manner... _ack! Naughty thoughts!_ Nicholas halted herself right there, knowing full well that she was normally a boy and that Vlad was an old man.

There was a moment of silence, during which the other five committee members exchanged awkward glances. Finally, the first girl spoke. "I was thinking Slash Power," she suggested. "We'd all have to go in guy/guy and girl/girl pairs."

"Eew!" two of the girls exclaimed.

"What about 'Halfas Unite'?" suggested the third girl.

"No way," the human answered. "That's picking on the minority."

"So what's _your_ idea?"

"How 'bout 'We Hate the Headmistress'?" Nicholas suggested. Boy, she _did._

The brunette grinned. "Sounds cool."

As the others echoed their agreements, it suddenly clicked to Nicholas who the girl was... Emberlynn Fenten.

"Sorry, I can't allow you to do that," Vlad interjected.

So _that_ was why he was there. "Why don't you just bug off?" Nicholas snapped. "It's not _your_ homecoming dance."

"Dance of Unneccessary Circumstance," he corrected, then lapsed into a smirking silence.

The others also fell quiet for a short time, then the brunette decided to make a comment. "Maybe we should do something totally random, like Uber-Hott Guys."

"Yeah!" the human agreed.

"Nope," said Nicholas immediately, making a face. Girls could be so _sexist_. "It better be something that doesn't gag out the guys."

"How 'bout just Uber-Hott People?" the first girl suggested.

"Make that your theme, and I'll make sure you spend the day after cleaning up the drool," Vlad warned.

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"Phoo," Emberlynn muttered, furrowing her eyebrows. Vlad sure wasn't making this easy.

"Maybe... The Awesome-Osity of Jash Shipping?" Intropic suggested.

Emberlynn grinned. "We should make a clan for that. Probably shouldn't hog the whole dance, though." Then she frowned again. Where had _that_ come from? Surely, Common Sense couldn't have just eked into her speech. Any _normal_ day, she'd love to decorate the place in Jashy goodness.

"Thank you," said Nicholas. Then, "Maybe we should do 'Villainy Rocks'."

"You wouldn't know _villainy_ if it came up to you and bit you in the face," Vlad pointed out in an arrogant manner.

"Well, what do _you_ suggest?" Nicholas snapped.

The smirk spread across his entire face. "I was hoping you'd ask that. What do you say to 'Evil Among the Dead'?"

She snorted. "Didn't I just say that?"

"Actually, what you said was 'Villainy Rocks'. Not nearly so catchy or categorized."

"How would _that_ work as a theme?" the human girl whined.

"It's very simple, really," he answered. "You include dead or undead villains from any media you think of. Consider... Oogie Boogie of _The Nightmare Before Christmas._ Or Dracula. Anything's possible." His smile expanded to reveal his pearly white teeth.

Emberlynn found herself nodding. "That's pretty cool." Although, somewhere inside, she couldn't help but suspect that Miss Morgan had sent him there to make that suggestion.

"Or how about Barbossa from _Pirates of the Carribean?_" Intropic suggested.

Abruptly, a full RBB plummeted from the sky and made direct collision with Intropic's skull. There was a horrific _crack_, and she dropped to the ground.

Emberlynn turned to stare at Vlad, being as how he was the only staff member present. His smile had dropped, but he soon returned to his usual smirk. "She'll be fine."

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And so the meeting proceeded for a good three hours. The blonde eventually came round, then spent the rest of the time making such horrible faces that even Nicholas felt rather pained in the head. Most of the time was spent making decoration suggestions, most of which had been immediately rejected as they were either too stupid or expensive. By the time they got out, Nicholas was more than ready to collapse into bed and take a nap... or maybe go write fanfiction.

'Course, she couldn't go write fanfiction, so she just headed back to her room. Everyone else was already there, but Nicholas was beginning to get used to the others' ability to be everywhere ahead of her. And they were doing homework.

She let out a horrible groan. She'd forgotten about _homework!_ Her flame-point Siamese, meowing obnoxiously in the way only that particular breed of cat could, was of little comfort as she plunked her new grey backpack onto her bed.

Best to get on with it. Assigned was one two-thousand-word fanfiction featuring a jock-type villain without powers. Dash had mentioned that any rip-offs would lose credit, so she had to base the character on what she'd heard and whatever she could find in _The Big Book of No-Powered Nasties._ Leave it to Dash to make writing boring. At least the thing wasn't due for two days, but she had the feeling that it would take the rest of the day to sort out everything Dash had pounded into her head. Thank goodness for notes.

Her other assignment, of course, was an even longer essay on the properties of ectoplasm. Maddie and Jack's class had been, if possible, longer than Dash's, and now she couldn't remember anything they'd said.

She'd probably better get to the library and check out those books.

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Emberlynn got started on her homework straight away, but found it difficult to muster even a thousand words of the powerless drivel she was expected to write. _Everybody_ that Danny fought had ghost powers, what did it matter? Eventually, though (with a break for dinner), she managed to throw in enough padding to come a bit closer to the mark, then figured it had to be good. The fight scene _did_ end up turning out pretty cool, even though Dash's strict stipulations dictated that she couldn't insert any other characters.

Once the short bit was out of the way, though, it got troublesome. She didn't _want_ to learn about ectoplasm. She'd do that later, she decided. It wasn't due until Friday.

By this time, it was distressingly close to bedtime, and she was darn well ready. Despite a trip to the infirmary, much of her still ached.

And when she woke up the next morning, she ached worse.

She wasn't quite sure how it was possible, but although her head had forgiven the falling Z, her body hadn't forgiven the iguanas. 'Course, she'd kind of brought that upon herself... but what the heck? He was Danny! It would be the awesomest thing in the world to get him before any other fangirls! She'd pounce on him and tickle him until his face turned blue, then personally put the oxygen back into his system. She closed her eyes and blisfully imagined how that might feel. Just like her character would kiss him...

BOOOOOOONG BOOOOOOONG BOOOOOOONG... "ATTENTION, STUDENTS! IT IS NOW OH-SEVEN-HUNDRED HOURS! BREAKFAST WILL BE SERVED AT SEVEN-FIFTEEN PROMPT IN THE GREAT HALL!"

Leave it to Miss Morgan to spoil the sweet thoughts of playful romance. Muttering a curse that seemed rather uncharacteristic of her fourteen-year-old self, she hauled herself out of bed and set about the ritual of getting dressed.

That took surprisingly little time. Figuring she could save some time, she grabbed her backpack and dragged it along to breakfast. There were no additions to the Code today, and in fact breakfast in general went quite smoothly. Then it was off to _Being Evil Ain't Easy._

Once again, the teacher-of-the-day waited until the class was assembled before coming in. And boy, did he come in! Vlad Plasmius' normally pointy bad hair had been brushed back into a ponytail, and he had traded his ridiculous attire for a black turtleneck and matching pants.

Admittedly, it didn't do much for his green skin, but he was still pretty hott. A particular fire blazed in his red eyes as he swept them over the crowd.

Suddenly, one of the students - a girl - popped up from her seat and gazed at Vlad, large red hearts glowing in her eyes and a bit of drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. "You're really sexy, Vlad!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you," he answered wryly. "Now, please, sit down. As I'm sure all of you are aware, this class is entitled _Being Evil Ain't Easy._ Now, a disturbing lot of you have made claims toward being evil, but the fact is, none of you have any idea what it even is to be evil. Of course, hopefully when you leave this class you _still_ won't, but will at least have a grasp on the concept for your _fanfiction._" He spat out the last word as though it were dead-celery butter, which it very well could have been.

Being evil, he explained, wasn't just killing the good guys, taking over the world or stealing a girl. No, that's what evil _does._ But to _be_ evil, as Vlad put it, was a bit more ambitious than any of them probably wanted to be. It involved a particular lack of heart and moral fiber, as well as a good lot of arrogance and brains.

"You must be ruthless," he explained. "Although I have the sneaking doubt that very few of you actually understand what 'ruthless' means."

He went on to explain that most villains had one thing in common: they were willing to do whatever it took to accomplish whatever they wanted done. Prince Humperdink ("That's H-U-M-P-E-R-D-I-N-K, students; the last thing we need is one of _those_ around here,"), for example, had chosen a lovely lady to become engaged to, then have kidnapped so he would have a reason to go to war with a neighboring country. Oogie Boogie (Vlad seemed to have a particular fondness for this villain) didn't neccesarily have anything he wanted to accomplish, but he had no boundaries on the torture he was willing to inflict upon Sandy Claws for his personal entertainment.

"And there's me," he added. "Sadly, Mr. Hartman has never been exactly clear on what my true intentions are, but it seems to me that I would go to any lengths to have Daniel on my side. It is very possible that I simply wish to assimilate the power most capable of defeating me so that I will be uncontested in my quest for paranormal domination, or perhaps world domination.

"A good example of evil is the ability to unknowingly turn two people against each other. Two friends. Ideally, they'd never know who it was they were fighting, and thus mindlessly destroy each other without suffering particular moral quandaries. Afterward, I suppose you could reveal to the winner - if indeed there is one - exactly who it was he killed, and in a fit of madness he may join your forces or commit suicide. Remember, never _ever_ admit to people whom you are trying to confuse that you are directly responsible. This tends to make them very angry. Anger breeds resentment, and resentment breeds desire for vengeance, so do try to keep anger to a minimum. Once you eliminate any serious threat, feel free to instill as much _suffering_ as you like."

By this point, Emberlynn was near catatonic, and only barely aware of what she was putting into her notebook -- until she took a good look at it, and realized she'd been sketching Danny in those black boxer shorts. Her face flushed hot as she quickly scribbled in some actual notes, then turned back to the lecturing halfa.

"Double-cross people, then convince them that the other is to blame for their problems. And never be afraid to think large. Don't take candy from a small child; shut down the factory."

Abruptly, Skulker walked into the room and shot a glare at Plasmius. "Sure, start without me!" he exclaimed.

"Class began several minutes ago," Vlad pointed out.

"Oh, dang. That Tucker kid got ahold of my PDA and programmed me late!"

"Either way, I was just expression the neccessities of evil. Remember, class, in order to _be_ evil, you must have evil plans, and the gumption to carry them out by whatever means neccessary."

"And never give up," Skulker hissed. "No matter how many stinking little kids try to mess with your plans!"

"Yes. Though it may occasionally be prudent to pull back and regroup. Is there anything you'd like to say to the class?"

Skulker smirked evilly, then nodded. "This class is hereby under hostagery by dominance of Skulker!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" he exclaimed. "Up against the wall, Plasmius. I'm taking over the class."

"You're here to _teach_ the class, not-"

Skulker shot a blast of something glowy at Plasmius, knocking him back into the wall. "I'll do as I please!"

Vlad hissed. "This is _my_ class, and _I _am in charge!"

"In charge? Hah! You can't even get the brats to pay attention to you!"

Emberlynn was certainly paying attention _now._

Plasmius' eyes glowed red, and he reached out. A bolt of red ectoplasm shot from his hand and hit Skulker square in the chest. "You will _not_ have the class! They are _my_ students!"

"They will be _my_ minions! You will _all_ be my minions! After the class, I shall conquer the school!"

Vlad frowned a bit. Then he smirked. Then, he laughed.

Skulker raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Fool," Plasmius remarked through a snigger. "You cannot possibly hope to dominate _Vlad Plasmius!_ _I_ am taking over the school, and those with the brains to hear what I say shall rule under me as _my_ minions!"

The plasma blasts were becoming larger as the situation rapidly devolved into a large-scale dirt-kicking contest. Each side continued to boast of himself and insult the other, and it soon became clear that neither would be winning soon.

It was at this point that Emberlynn developed some sense and crawled under her desk.

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In another part of the University, Miss Morgan had been watching the fiasco over the security camera, and now found herself rather relieved that she'd let Jack install those. She had a pretty good idea who was responsible for the mess, too.

"TUCKER!"

The teenager in question appeared in a short space of time. "Yeah?"

"Did you program Skulker to take over the school at..." She checked her watch. "Oh-eight-fifteen?"

Tucker grinned widely. "Yeah."

Miss Morgan gave him a stern look. "Skulker and Vlad are having a spit-fest in Evil class. Do we _really _need a Sauron-Morgoth repeat?"

"Ah, you don't have to worry about that," he answered. "It's only for today, and Skulker's due to confirm the Halloween candy order in another five minutes."

"Mmm," Miss Morgan nodded. "I'm not sure the _students_ can handle another five minutes."

"Well, you know what they say," he said, grinning sheepishly. "'When the plasm flies, so does the time."

Miss Morgan raised an eyebrow. "You just made that up."

He nodded, still grinning. "Yeah. Uh, Miss Morgan, are you sure you want the _experimental_ candies? We might need to rent some Oompah Loompahs to clean up the mess."

She smiled in a way that one might consider disturbingly reminiscent of The Penguin, but only if one wasn't neccesarily considering Danny DeVito's neat prosthetics. "The _experimental_ candies are the whole point, and anything else that might make their heads explode. The iguanas should be able to handle things okay."

"Oh, uh, did we want Ember for the Unneccesary Circumstance Dance?"

She became stern again. "No. I'm trying to maintain some semblance of security around here. Get Bonejangles."

"But-"

"There's some kind of rift in the Ghost Zone, has something to do with its similarity to the Land of the Dead. You can get in through there. I want his band so I can torment the students with 'Everybody Wants To Be A Cat'."

Tucker nodded slowly. "Riiiiiiiight." Then a beeping sound was heard, and his eyes widened. "Ohmygosh! I'm supposed to be meeting Dash and Valerie for Halloween plans!"

"Save me some," Miss Morgan ordered, even as Tucker darted out of the room with all the air of a greased hyena. She chuckled, shaking her head a bit. "More than one around here answer to the call of the PDA."


	8. Boring & Bleeding

I am really, really sorry for taking so long. See, just got DSL, but the computer I'm using to write this can't support it, so I have to take it to another computer, and I haven't even been online for about three weeks anyway, due in part to the fact that I just got Pokémon Sapphire but mostly to various extenuating circumstances. But here's your chapter, so you don't have to eat me.

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Chapter 8: Boring & Bleeding

On Wednesday, Emberlynn had _Highschool Relations, _with Danny (delightfully) and Sam (disgruntlingly). Apparently, the idea was to instruct writers in what usually happens between high school students.

"They develop crushes," Sam said.

Danny blushed, but just briefly. "Yeah, they do that. I mean, you guys have got to have a crush on _somebody_ back home."

"I have a crush on somebody _here,_" one of the students remarked suggestively, and Danny rolled his large and adorably expressive eyes.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "when you have close friends of the opposite sex, like Danny and me, they kind of tend to develop an affinity for each other. Maybe they're in love, or maybe they think of each other like siblings, or maybe somewhere in between. Usually, though, the people they fall for aren't even the people they hang with."

"Kids ask each other out. They date. All that kind of stuff," Danny agreed.

"But just because you like someone in high school doesn't mean you're going to marry them later. And you might end up marrying someone you never thought you would."

"Not like Sam's going to be marrying Tucker," Danny amended.

Sam gagged a bit. "Nope, definitely not."

"But after I get out of highschool, the chances are pretty good that we'll go our seperate ways. We'll probably go to college or something, or one of us will, and we'll meet other people, make other friends; we might not even see each other again. Who know where we'll wind up."

"I may wear pink one day," Sam remarked wistfully.

Several jaws fell from their respective skulls.

"I don't mean dresses with all the bows and weird stuff!" she exclaimed. "Is there any balance in this small world?"

Danny shrugged. "I guess not."

"Anyway, the point is, it is not guaranteed that Danny and I will grow up and get married, and in fact there is a good chance that we'll end up marrying other people. To further drive this point into your rocklike skulls, you are to read Bill Cosby's _Love and Marriage_ and write a four-thousand word report on the book and what you learn from it. With any luck, you will at least quit writing about our halfa descendants with such complete certainty."

_Hmm._ If Danny didn't marry Sam, then he could be free to go with...

"That said, Danny is mine, all mine, and you can't have him," Sam concluded.

_Crud._

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Nicholas flew all the way to her _Why There Aren't More Halfas_ class. It was her first class with Jazz, and she couldn't wait. For the first time, she was actually excited about a class. She phased straight through the door and plopped into the seat, staring eagerly at-

"Hello," greeted Maddie. "Jazz has a cold today, so I'll be filling in for the class."

Nicholas groaned, dropping her head to her desk. What a waste of perfectly good excitement.

"Welcome to your first round of _Why There Aren't More Halfas._ It has come to the attention of Miss Morgan that several of you are under the impression that getting halfa powers should be easy. First, let's review the usual methods.

"One: Sneaks into our basement and gets caught in the ghost portal, the same as Danny.

"Two: Gets caught in someone else's ghost portal, the same as Danny.

"Three: Is experimented on by Vlad and made into a halfa."

"Today we will be covering the first method, sneaking into my basement and getting caught in the Fenton Ghost Portal. How many of you have written this?"

Nicholas felt a certain amount of smugness at having never written that particular plot, as several other hands went up.

"Would a few of you care to explain the circumstances surrounding these events?"

"My character knew there was something up with Danny," said Zoe Clampett. "So she stayed out of school and snuck into Danny's house through the window. His parents were in the kitchen, so she made it in without them noticing."

"OH, THE HORRIBLE GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES!"

Amazingly, Zoe managed to ignore Miss Morgan's outburst. "She figured whatever secret he was hiding had to be in the basement, so she went there. She found the portal and activated it accidentally when she tripped over a wire and hit the button. It knocked her out and when she woke up again, she had green hair and purple eyes."

Maddie winced, but nodded. "Thank you. Please, continue." She gestured to the class at large.

"Danny invited my character over to her house," said Emberlynn Fenten. "His parents weren't home then, and he had to go and fight a ghost before she got there. She was looking for him all over the house, and she went into the basement and found the portal. She pushed the button to see what it did, and it made her into a halfa. After that her ghost sense went off, so she went and saved Danny from the ghost."

Iana Sapphire raised her hand. "Do I have to tell everybody? It was a really dumb story; I'd rather nobody have to listen to it."

"Ah, you were the one that Miss Morgan SaAmPOV'ed. Yes, you have to tell your story. This is for the benefit of the whole class so they, too, can learn from your mistakes."

She frowned. "Well, my character's parents were killed by Vlad, so the Fentons adopted her, and took her down to the basement to show her everything. Then Jack's Ghost Detector went off, so he and Maddie ran upstairs to check it out. My character wanted to help, but they made her stay downstairs, so she started poking around, and she tripped into the portal and her head hit the button."

Maddie nodded. "That should do us. Now, can anyone tell me what is wrong with these plots?"

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It clicked in Emberlynn's head immediately, though it was probably Common Sense. "They're all the same," she said.

"Besides that."

"They all take from the original Danny Phantom plot," said Iana.

Maddie nodded. "Yes, exactly. They repeat an accident that was unlikely the first time to absurd extremes. You'd have to install an Infinite Improbability Drive in the basement for the same mistake to occur a second time, in accordance with the Chaos Theory. Not only that, but these plots have several other mistakes.

"In the first example, the character successfully skulked into the house because Jack and I were in the kitchen. In reality, Jack's ill-placed ghost alarms would have been blaring all over the place, and the house would have gone into automatic lockdown. Secondly, once in the basement, she just happened to trip over a wire at the correct angle and position that she not only fell into the ghost portal but hit the button with enough thrust that it was activated.

"In the second plot, Jack and I have left the house, basement unlocked. Even if I were inclined to do this, Jack would be far too paranoid to leave his precious ghost equipment vulnerable. Not only that, but apparently this character decided it was a good idea to mess around with equipment that she not only did not own, but also did not have the slightest idea what was. Even if she was that careless, I would hope that she wasn't that thoughtless.

"Now, the last one... Iana, would you like to demonstrate?"

The addressed fangirl stood up and made her way to the front of the class. "Well, firstly, her parents were killed by Vlad. That's completely stupid; why would he want to kill her parents? In the story, he did it for no reason. Then the Fentons adopted her. They hardly pay attention to their own kids, so they probably wouldn't feel any real need to have another one around. They'd probably... set her up with some friends or something. And while they could be enthusiastic enough to show her all their stuff, the rest of the plot was taken straight from Danny's backstory."

"Very good," Maddie remarked. "You can go back to your seat now."

Once the halfa had returned to her place, Maddie glanced down at the desk for a moment before addressing the class again. "The problem with these stories is, they just can't work. They could happen, but only in the greatest realms of improbability. If they were as likely as many writers assume, then it's very probable that at least Tucker, if not Sam too, would have ghost powers as well by now. Any questions?"

One of the students raised her hand. "When did you find out that Danny was a halfa?"

"We had a full disclosure before the start of the school year. Everyone had to know everything about what they were teaching, and for goodness' sakes _why_ they were teaching it. You would not believe the squick I had to read -- by the time I was finished, finding out about Danny wasn't very shocking at all. Any other questions?"

There were none.

"All right. Your assignment is to read the first chapter of the _Big Book of Becoming a Halfa_ and write a three-thousand-word essay concerning the Portal Method and actual probability values of this method's success."

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And now it was Thursday. Nicholas had _Know Your Fenton Arsenal_ and _Being Evil Ain't Easy_, in that order. Breakfast was usual, and so she made it to class without a problem.

"Hello," greeted Jack Fenton. "Welcome to _Know Your Fenton Arsenal_. Today I am going to show you the first-featured Fenton invention, the Fenton Ghost Reel!" He reached under the desk and pulled out that famed fishing pole, spinning the handle for good measure.

Nicholas dropped her head to the desk, knowing that it was going to be a long class.

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_Being Evil Ain't Easy_ went off without a hitch for Emberlynn. Aside from the fact that she wasn't entirely sure what was going on, due to the late hours she'd spent finishing her homework for the last class of this subject. The Skulker incident had blown over quite well -- Vlad had announced that the whole thing was simply a demonstration of true evil, then required a twelve-page essay on college-rule print detailing an evil plan.

If that wasn't evil, she didn't know _what_ was.

Anyway, it wasn't until Iguana Dodgeball that she began to sense a _real_ problem. Firstly, there were no balls to be found. And secondly, Dash and Tucker were officiating.

Normally, she might not consider this a problem - the Tucker part, anyway - except that it was these two who had tricked the Unneccesary Circumstance Committee into entering Technus' room while Vlad was away sick (no doubt with the same thing Jazz had; this had occured on Wednesday). They had been going after Danny's room, but apparently Dash was a lot smarter than anyone had given him credit for.

She _had_ thought it a little suspicious that they hadn't had to sneak through the walls to get in... and paid for it when Technus spent the next three hours monologing _his_ ideas for the Dance.

But it was time for Iguana Dodgeball, and she had more serious problems. For instance, there were more people on the dodging side than there were on the throwing side, at a ratio of roughly twelve to two.

Dash had a balled-up iguana in one hand, and was tossing it up and down like an actual ball. Tucker also held one of these, and was whispering something about "bite really hard" to it.

Emberlynn gulped. This was not going to be pretty.

Dash threw first. She instinctively put up her arms to shield her face, but the iguana bypassed her completely and landed on...

"Ow!" Abercrombie Fauntleroy exclaimed, glancing down at his left knee where the iguana had glomped on with its jaws.

Hmm... now that she got a good look at him, Abercrombie was pretty cute. Almost as cute as Danny.

And then Emberlynn had no more time to think, for when Dash and Tucker didn't throw fast enough the iguanas simply threw themselves.

The first thing she did after getting out of class was sign up for both the courses she'd originally rejected.

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Friday turned out a little more boring for Nicholas. _Highschool Relations_ covered the subject "In Crowd vs. Out Crowd", and her second class - _1001 Nights, Will You All Shut Up? Behaving in Class_ with Mr. Lancer - was even worse.

"Welcome, students," he greeted in that particular stiff manner that he had. "It has come to my attention, courtesy of Miss Morgan, that many of you have been misbehaving in class -- talking, passing notes, attempting to stampede the teachers, and so forth. Ergo, I will be instructing you in how to behave.

"Also, it has come to my attention that many of you have less-than-enjoyable grips on grammar. Miss Morgan described a sensation similar to combustion of the eyes. Now, we all know that this cannot literally happen, but it does seem excruciatingly uncomfortable."

Lillith Caraway raised her hand. "Does Miss Morgan write all your speeches or what?"

"Oh, excuse me. Did I not remember to specify that we are _behaving_ in this class? You are all to be utterly silent in order to learn properly. Where was I? Ah. This class, we will be reviewing the basic alphabet. I understand that a lack of grasp of phoenetics is the cause of spelling errors, so I've made sure we have a special instruction tool."

He held up a yellow CD case. "The Sesame Street alphabet."

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Two hours later, Emberlynn finally staggered out of the class, brain completely fried. Her hands were clamped over her ears, but it did little to staunch the words raging inside her head.

_My name is Alice, Ann or Albert..._

_D, D D, D D is such a very nice lettter..._

_Four furry friends, frolicking fellows on Friday afternoon..._

Mr. Lancer had insisted on playing the CD no fewer than eighteen times, assigning week-long detention to anyone who complained. Emberlynn was fairly sure that any time now, her ears would start bleeding... but they didn't, sadly. She'd hoped the droning Sesame Street characters could be flushed out.

Then Danny, who had apparently just finished some class or another, stepped out into the corridor. Danny Fenton, in his black-haired goodness. Danny, who would be able to make it all go away.

And for the third time that week, Emberlynn joined the stampede.

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Miss Morgan shook her head. "We're not hurting these girls enough. This is... something like the eighth stampede."

"I'm working on it, okay?" Miss Miktayee explained hurriedly. "I'm working on this." She paused. "Do any of them seem to be a pack leader? I.E., starts the whole mess?"

"_Danny_ starts the whole mess."

"I mean a girl. Any girl in particular that starts it off."

"No, I think they've patented synchrony by now."

"Okay... I'm gonna have to work on this for a little while."

"Let _me_ do some punishment. Remember, I just finished watching _Willy Wonka._"

"Oh, darn. But you will let me work on this for awhile, right? I might have something. Remember, I just watched it, too."


	9. DingDongs & Dance

Here we are -- a little behind schedule, but your new chapter of the Official Fanfiction University of Amity Park. (I'm really sorry about this, but the computer I'm using doesn't have Internet anymore and my sister hogs the one with DSL. But it's here now, so don't eat me yet.)

BTW, for those of you who are looking to enroll, the entrance form to the University is available at http/www.websamba. com/CheeseSalad/APFORM. html . Enjoy. (And thanks to Lt. Commander Richie for pointing out that the URL had disappeared.)

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Chapter 9: Ding-Dongs & Dance

"I think we should arrange a guest list," Periwinkle suggested. "We could invite some of these guys we're theming after."

"Nuh-uh," Emberlynn argued. "We need to go in costume as these characters."

Nicholas yawned. They'd been working on dance ideas for a good four days, and nobody had actually managed to come up with anything concrete. _And_ she was still a girl.

"What do you think, Nicholas?" Intropic asked.

"We should all go in costume, dress as these guys we're theming about. And put up some decorations, for crap's sake."

"Black and red?" Eberhart quipped.

Emberlynn reached over and slapped her on the shoulder. "Black, white and green, I say. We could get some streamers and balloons."

"Typical," Nicholas groaned.

"That's the _idea!_ What kind of food are we having?"

"Lunch Lady's taking a break," said the human cheerfully. "Everybody who said they enjoy cooking has to work on the food."

"You worry that we might produce more than we can eat?" Eberhart quipped. She was good at quipping.

"Naaaah," Intropic answered forcefully. "I could probably eat a cheescake and eighteen burgers by myself."

"Eew." Emberlynn wrinkled her nose.

"Just make sure it's _good_ food," Nicholas ordered.

"No need to worry about that," Vlad assured her. "The _students_ are cooking."

"That still seems too cliché," the human complained. "We should get some cardboard cutouts."

"Only if you make them," Nicholas warned.

"We should!" Emberlynn agreed. "Make some posters of these characters and hang them around the room!"

"Tacky," Nicholas warned.

"It's a _dance._"

"We should definitely go in costume," Intropic insisted. "Tha'd be awesome, man."

Emberlynn made a face. "Whatever that meant."

"I said-"

"I think we've established that we're going in costume," Periwinkle pointed out.

"Can I dress as Oogie Boogie?" Eberhart quipped.

"Eew!" two of the girls exclaimed in unison. Nicholas wasn't exactly sure which ones they were.

"It's settled, then," said Intropic. "Where is this dance, exactly? We don't seem to have an auditorium or a gym..."

"The Great Hall," Vlad answered.

She nodded. "Okay. So we'll need what, about four hundred yards of streamers?"

"You're thinking small," Emberlynn quipped. Apparently she'd picked it up from Eberhart.

"_I'm_ going as Miss Lucy," the human declared.

"Costumes later," Nicholas snapped hotly. "We need to go shopping."

"You ladies decide what you need," said Vlad. "I'll have Skulker pick up the supplies tomorrow."

"Skulker. that crashed Tuesday's first Evil Class?" Periwinkle groaned.

"Then ran off to confirm a Halloween candy order?" Emberlynn agreed.

"He's on a perfect schedule," Vlad assured him. "Tucker programmed him to take over the class."

"No way!"

"And he's not going to sabotage the shopping trip?" Nicholas wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't guarantee that, but he will provide the essentials."

"Weeellll, _I _feel good." Intropic rolled her eyes.

"You should," Eberhart said. "These meetings make me hungry, so I brought some Ding-Dongs!" She immediately produced a package of the famed Hostess pastries from somewhere in her uniform.

"Excellent," remarked the human. "Gimme one."

Eberhart tore open the package and began tossing around Ding-Dongs. Even Vlad decided he'd eat one, farbeit for Nicholas to understand why.

"So what's that dorky-looky helmet do?" Intropic queried.

Vlad smirked. "This dorky-looking helmet filters out any and all snad spoken by you girls, and displays it as harmless green steam. That way, I know when to shut you up without damaging my ears."

Emberlynn raised her eyebrows. "What's 'snad'?"

"Sneaky Naughty Amorous Doings, according to Miss Miktayee."

"Back to business," Nicholas warned. "We've got three hours left of this meeting."

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Time marched forward. Emberlynn remembered to do her _Ghost Physiology 101_ homework exactly Thursday evening, then discovered that she had another essay to write from Wednesday's class, so she ended up frying her brains until well into the wee hours of the morning... and with science. Ugh. In the end, she came several words shorter than the goal, much to her disgust. One would think they could at least offer decent curriculum for their demands!

True to Vlad's word, Skulker brought everything they needed -- and some things they didn't, like exploding balloons. Fortunately, Emberlynn was in charge of streamers with Eberhart, and thus got a good chuckle from watching Nicholas go _boom_ on Saturday afternoon. Intropic and the human girl - Needlepoint, wasn't her name? were in charge of character posters. They'd all worked together on Friday spreading the word, and Emberlynn was beginning to think that it would have been better _not_ working on the committee.

There had been a bit of quandary at first as to where the students were going to get costumes - or, indeed, anything other than their uniforms - but luckily it came about that Desiree and Miss Miktayee were taking requests. Most students made themselves very busy with exact specifications on their costumes, while Emberlynn scarcely had time to think.

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When the group had finally gotten finished decorating, Nicholas decided to see Miss Morgan. Her office was fortunately _outside_ the staff area, and thus she was pretty easy to access.

She looked up just as the red ghost came in. "Hullo, Nicholas. What can I do for you?"

"You can turn me back into a boy," Nicholas growled.

Miss Morgan frowned. "Whatever for?"

"I've got a _dance_ to go to. You think I want to go as a girl?"

"I suppose not," she answered.

There was a tense silence.

"Well?" Nicholas demanded.

Miss Morgan blinked. "Oh, was I supposed to do something?"

"Well, _yeah._"

"I suppose you'll want a costume, too?"

"Duh."

She scratched her head. "This is only guys who were evil _after_ they died, right? Or un-died or whatever... what would you say to Bob of _Bob and George?_"

Nicholas rolled her eyes. "No way."

"Oh, _fine._ How 'bout Anubis from Stargate SG-1?"

"Whozzat?"

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Despite her decision to go as the Vampire Queen of Adventure Quest, Emberlynn felt depressed. She'd had exactly no time at all to find a dance partner. There was always James LeTorneau, her bunkmate, who was dressing as Jacob Marley (his brother Ian was going as Robert, who had officially been spawned by the _Muppet Christmas Carol_), but he was a ghost, and Emberlynn didn't really relish going to the dance with a ghost, even if one had helped conceptualize.

She'd caught sight of Nicholas at one point. He was a boy again - apparently, her eyes _hadn't_ been decieving her at any point - and, black robes tucked under one arm, was off to ask Hellfire to the dance. Yippee for him.

Now, in the post-pre-dance-rush, Emberlynn sat on her bed and fiddled with her hair. How had she _managed_ to help arrange the dance in the space of a week? Normally, these things didn't occur until a whole lot later. Maybe Miss Morgan wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

Fenton and Phantom had merged, and was going with Sam, she knew. Ed had made some claims of going with Desiree, and apparently Miss Miktayee had laid claim to Johnny 13. Who was Miss Morgan going with?

It didn't matter.

"Nobody will go to the dance with me!" she moaned.

"Don't be so downhearted," someone said.

Danny appeared in the room in human form, dressed as some kind of undead. "At least you won't have to save the day if anything goes wrong."

"I wanna _date,_" she grumbled.

"What about that LeTourneau kid?"

She made a face. "No way. He's a ghost."

"You're half-ghost, remember?"

"It isn't the same _thing._ Where'd everybody go?"

"Bathroom."

"You don't have any room to lecture. You're going with Sam."

"Tucker and Dash don't have dates... 'course, they're about like the Urple Bandits all over again."

"Who are they?"

"Never mind."

Suddenly, a thought crossed Emberlynn's mind. She and Danny were alone in the room, and he was sitting on her bed about two feet away, his long fingers sort of tapping hottly on his slender knee. She could just...

"I could set you up with somebody."

Jolted out of her thoughts, Emberlynn rolled her eyes. "Like Dash or Tucker?"

"Maybe not."

"I think I'll take my chances."

"Hey," he said, smiling a bit, "I'll just send somebody by, and if you don't want to, you don't have to go with them. Okay?"

"Okay," she grumbled. But if _only_ she could go with Danny-!

He disappeared.

Ian and James suddenly burst into the room, singing merrily some song of imprisoned doom. "Captive, bound, we're double-ironed, exhausted by the weight..."

Were they going together? That didn't seem right... of course, they were brothers being brothers, so why not? Too bad Emberlynn didn't have a sister.

There was a knock on the door.

Emberlynn jumped up and ran to the door purely on instinct, then realized that this could very well be the person Danny had sent. Who was it? Heart pounding, she reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, then yanked open the door.

Samuel was standing there.

He was wearing a black-and-grey robe, and grinning evilly. "Hello, Emberlynn."

Emberlynn gawked. "H-hi?"

"My good friend Daniel says you don't have a date for the dance. Would you care to join me?"

Her knees suddenly felt weak, and not in a good way. "Uh... not really..."

Samuel frowned, then put his hands into the pockets of his robes and leaned lazily against the doorframe. His evil smirk melted into a rather suggestive smile. "You sure?"

Emberlynn continued to gawk. How could an Illithid possibly look so... come-hither? There was a particular glint in his compound iridescent eyes that somehow made her desperately want to go with him... but he was still a squid-faced braineater.

Finally her brain settled on a compromise. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Ethan," he answered. "From Dungeons & Dorks. The character isn't actually dead, but he's died so often during the comic that we felt he qualified."

"Ah." She nodded. "Well, it's not like I'm not... y'know, grateful or anything, but I don't really want to go with..."

"A big ugly mindflayer?" He pouted.

She made a desperate face at him, hoping he'd comply. Weird-looking as he was, she couldn't help but feel that she'd regret it forever if she had to turn him down. Maybe Common Sense was speaking again... or maybe it was that tentacled pout and wide gleaming eyes.

He didn't speak.

"Y'know, maybe I'll just stay home."

Samuel glanced downward, clearly disappointed. "Guess I'll go alone then," he moped. "Hang around, get drunk on brains."

Emberlynn raised her eyebrows. "Do they spike those?"

He grinned a little. "Worse than the punch."

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Miss Morgan couldn't help but smile as Samuel escorted Emberlynn in. The whole thing looked so incredulous that she couldn't help but feel... squippy.

"Samuel and Emberlynn, huh?" Miss Miktayee remarked from behind her.

"Yup," Miss Morgan answered. "I figured since it worked so great for Legolas, Danny oughta try setting up his 'lusters'."

"It probably won't last."

"Maybe not, but it's stinkin' funny to watch."

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The dance was close to starting. The Great Hall looked quite festive with its colored streamers and Evil Dead pinups, and the tables were arranged around the walls and laden with food.

"It is _so_ great to be a guy again," Nicholas muttered, taking a sip of punch.

"What would you have done if you weren't?" Hellfire wanted to know.

Nicholas would have answered were it not for the sudden blaring of Miss Morgan's voice. "Attention, students! I would like to thank each and every one of you for attending this Dance of Unneccesary Circumstance!"

Nicholas turned in the direction of the voice. Miss Morgan was once again on the balcony, and behind her could be seen several figures setting up musical equipment.

"There's been a rift spawned in the Ghost Realm, leading to the Land of the Dead in Burtonia. I believe it came about because a good lot of you guys decided there might be some kind of weird parallels between our universe and theirs. Well, since I actually happen to be rather fond of the residents of the Land of the Dead, I've invited Bonejangles and his band to perform for our dance as your reward."

A few of the assembled students began clapping loudly. Nicholas just raised an eyebrow as the underbitten skeleton appeared next to Miss Morgan. "Thanks, everybody!" Bonejangles exclaimed, waving a hand. "I gotta tell you, I love working in places like this."

"And I know how much you kids loooove to write songfics featuring your favorite songs, neverminding that they do little more than break up the flow of the story, so today we are going to be performing _my_ favorite songs, despite the fact that they have nothing to do with the theme of the dance."

"_I_ sure didn't do it," Nicholas informed Hellfire.

"We will not be performing Evanescense, Linkin Park or Savage Garden, for you would all enjoy that way too much. Instead, Jangles and his Bonies will, for the first song, be following me in 'Be a Star'."

"What song's that?" Hellfire whispered.

"No clue."

In the next few seconds, it became painfully clear, and there was not a student in the area who enjoyed it either.

"_Eve's great, no matter where she goes_

"_Dress 'er up from her head to her toes_

"_At the park, at the mall_

"_Eve loves high fashion_

"_After dark, at the club_

"_She'll spend the whole night daaaaanciiiiiiin'!_"

There was a pause, during which Miss Morgan (who, Nicholas realized belatedly, was dressed as Carrigan of Casper) observed that very few people had been enjoying the music or dancing to it.

"Come on, people! This is a festive occasion! A celebration of your future induction into the educated and a wake for our sanity! Have fun!"

The song continued, and eventually Nicholas found himself dancing with Hellfire -- and enjoying it immensely. It was rather catchy.

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"Geez!" Emberlynn grunted. "I thought _Behind These Hazel Eyes_ was a perfect piece for my songfic!"

"You're not _supposed_ to write songfic," Samuel explained from his expertly-executed bop. Emberlynn wasn't sure how such a weird creature could have learned to dance so well, but his movements were so perfect that he almost looked sexy doing it.

Almost.

The first song was over, and now Miss Morgan and Bonejangles were performing "Let's Get Together". It was a fun, bouncy song to dance to, but the lyrics were horrendous, and Miss Morgan's fair-enough voice combined with Bonejangles' Danny-Elfman voice came close to making her ears bleed.

Samuel was turning out to be an interesting dancing partner, that was for sure. He was definitely the smartest guy she'd ever met, and had a definite knack for doing exactly the kind of things that made her feel... wrong. Very wrong. _He's a squid-head!_

_A very fun squid-head._ Emberlynn was entirely unsure that this was Common Sense speaking. In fact, she was entirely sure that it wasn't. No, this had to be something weirder, like her inner Dax.

Of course, Dax tended to be "inner" all the time, so perhaps that wasn't the best example. Her inner Kurzon might be a better choice.

The letter C suddenly plummeted from above, but thankfully missed Emberlynn's head as it had become her turn to "bop".

Well, it could be worse. His skull could be transparent.

"Whoa!" Samuel exclaimed suddenly. "Slow dance."

The music had indeed changed. Bonejangles was singing the opening part of "A Whole New World".

Emberlynn frowned. "How do you dance to this?"

"A little like a tango, I think."


	10. Madness & Morgan

I am really sorry for taking so long to update. Honestly. It just so happened that, day after day, I found myself with Yet Another Reason to Procrastinate, and so I never got around to it. But here's your chapter, so you don't have to kill me.

And _please_ don't review saying "Update soon!" I will update when I update and not until. Which will be right on schedule, with any luck. Like I said, I'm really sorry about this one.

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Chapter 10: Madness & Morgan

When Emberlynn awoke the next morning, she had the pleasant sensation of not knowing exactly where she was.

This was pleasant because on most mornings she knew _exactly_ where that was, and that was in the first location relative to her doom.

And now she knew exactly where she was, but it didn't matter. Because today was Sunday. Glorious Sunday. The dance was over, and... how exactly had it ended?

With a rendition of "Pure Imagination", if she remembered correctly. It had been close to midnight, and she suspected Samuel may have been feeding on her brains, though it could have merely been the punch. They'd been slow-dancing... and boy, was he good at it... then everything went black.

Suffering a sudden shock, Emberlynn jerked bold upright and immediately looked herself over. No, she wasn't dead. Pity... she might have gotten out of classes next week.

Either way, she was never going to watch a Tim Burton movie again. It just wasn't worth the stress. In fact, _nothing_ seemed worth the stress right now. Especially not getting out of bed.

Then a knock sounded on the door.

As she'd done the evening before, Emberlynn bolted straight out of bed. This time, though, she wasted no time in opening the door... then immediately wished she'd let someone else do it.

Miss Morgan herself was standing there, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she was leaning casually on a cream-and-white cane and wearing an urple velvet coat.

And she was smiling in a friendly way.

"Good morning, Emberlynn!" she greeted. "You were a part of the stampede on Friday, yes?"

Emberlynn nodded stupidly. No point lying to the Assistant Headmistress.

She smiled bigger. "Stampedes are always such an inspiration to me. In fact, such an inspiration that I've planned a special reward for all the lovely young ladies who have participated in these acts."

Emberlynn blinked, again stupidly. "Uhh..."

"And that's why I'm giving this to you," she announced cheerfully, drawing forth some kind of shiny thing from inside her jacket. As though the coat weren't enough on its own, the shiny was also urple, in the most horrible blinding way possible.

And, of course, Emberlynn was the lucky recipient. "What's it do?" she muttered, staring at the object.

"Nothing at all," Miss Morgan answered. "That is an Urple Pass. Take it to the staff section today after breakfast for a free tour."

Emberlynn rolled her eyes, a considerable feat given her lack of sleep and pressing headache. "You're kidding."

"Not yet," she answered cheerily. "I'm giving one to everyone who's stampeded in the past week, so you needn't feel special or anything. Ta-ta!"

And she disappeared.

Emberlynn still wasn't sure what the Urple Pass actually looked like, but she didn't really care. It was urple, and that meant unforgiveably tacky. So she stuffed it into a pocket and wandered off to get dressed, all ideas of sleep forgotten.

A free tour of the staff section. It seemed too good to be true. _I mean, me, actually an _inspiration_ to Miss Morgan?_ Strange as it was, though, she actually started to get excited at the prospect. On more sleep, she might have thought otherwise, but Common Sense was too busy snoozing to protest.

And so it was slightly jubilant she went in to breakfast. Of course, she'd had to actually _wait_ for the food to get there, but it was well worth it. A tour of the staff section! What a lucky girl she was!

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Nicholas was also cheerful this morning. He was a boy again, he was off the committee, and Hellfire was one awesome dancer. One awesome chick in general. Neither of them agreed that they could possibly be doing anything remotely similar to "dating", but the fact that they'd both thought of it brought him some hope.

And what was more, he wasn't the last person to arrive. O joyous day!

Fenton and Phantom were still one today, he noticed. All the better. It was kind of trippy having two of them around. Around him, he noticed, several girls were chatting excitedly and flashing some kind of shiny urple things - he really wished they wouldn't; those things hurt the eyes - as though they were some kind of high awards.

And, frankly, he was coming dangerously close to not caring. Even breakfast tasted good today, though it was probably his imagination. Mmm... life was good.

Unfortunately, whenever _somebody_ got to thinking that in a University, something invariably came up. Nicholas, who had not read the fine print, was scheduled to clean the Evil Loner bathroom with the Box Ghost today.

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"Ah, welcome, ladies!" Miss Morgan exclaimed in that continuing cheerful manner. "Today, all of you who can produce a legitimate Urple Pass will be admitted into the staff section." She leaned over against one side of the entrance, waving a hand as she might in a tollbooth. "Will you all pass by, one at a time, and show me your passes. Forgery will result in severe punishment."

And so they filed in, one by one. But this was boring, so Emberlynn mentally skipped it.

When she re-attained proper consciousness, Miss Morgan was standing ahead of them once again, but further down the hall. "Come along, please. As you're all wearing nothing more than your uniforms, I suspect a request to remove hats or coats would be entirely superfluous."

"It's a hallway," Intropic pointed out.

"Ah, but a hallway with doors. Could I direct your attention to this door over here?" She gestured to one in particular with her cane. It was, in fact, a door like every other. "Behind this door is a wonder the likes of which you've never seen... the staff pool."

Emberlynn suddenly suffered (or, rather, enjoyed) the vision of Danny in his swimming trunks.

"I suppose we won't get to go in," someone grumped.

"Now, whatever gave you that idea? This is the staff section, and my task is to show you the hotspots." She poked open the door with her cane. "Please, go inside."

She was humming "Pure Imagination", but as Emberlynn had no clue where the song had come from she hardly thought of it. Instead, she poured into the room with the other sixty-or-so students.

Any possible misgivings were soon laid to rest when the magnificence of the staff pool met her eyes. It was at least eighty feet long, and contained a few undeniably hott staff members happily playing in their swimwear.

But... something seemed wrong. Common Sense had awoken at last, and was nagging at Emberlynn as only Common Sense could.

"Feel free to observe the staff members in their natural habitat, but please stay out yourself," Miss Morgan warned.

That had to be what was wrong, for it took less than three seconds for about fifteen students to dart toward the pool, drool trailing from their mouths amidst cries of "Dash!" or "Tucker!" The last name was somewhat disturbing, but not until the fangirls had actually stampeded into the pool did Emberlynn realize what the whole thing was all about. Drowning cries filled the air, mixed with the sounds of some kind of pool-monster grinding.

Miss Morgan smiled. "As I said, please stay out of the pool."

Someone threw up. Multiple someones, actually.

"Are we all done observing, then?"

Emberlynn nodded. The sight of fangirls drowning and being eaten simultaneously was almost too much to bear.

Miss Morgan's urple coat gleamed evilly as she led the remaining students through a side door. "We are proceeding into the Miscellanious Recreation area, where people do other things... like play pool."

Even though there was a clear visual of what she meant, several of the students still vomited. Emberlynn, though, was too busy watching Vlad in his black outfit as he sparred a billiards game against Jack.

"Once again, I must ask you to only observe-"

Lust answered to no one. Cries of "Vlad!" and "Jazz!" (for the latter was busy whooping Lancer's rear at a game of Go Fish or somesuch) echoed through the air, and several more students proceeded, though a little more cautiously, toward their lust objects.

There was a horrible BZAPP, a visible bolt of electricity, and the students fell to the ground.

And the barfing echoed. Emberlynn personally found it difficult to hold her lunch -- burnt silicon is one of the more repuslive things to witness. She managed, though - but barely - by averting her eyes toward Miss Morgan and the urple jacket.

"Now, what have we learned from this?" Miss Morgan questioned cheerfully, turning to the other students.

"No stampeding!" they echoed as one.

"Very good. Moving on."

The next room was equally as large as the last. This, though, was the room with the TV, and around three of the four walls were tall rows of books. And, she noticed, Danny was seated in one of the plush sofas, reading one of these books.

But Common Sense was awake, and determined to make up for what it'd missed this morning. While other girls, eyes glazed and mouths running, dashed toward Danny, she held her ground. And within a moment she was exceedingly glad, for their screams echoed on for several moments after they plummeted into the floor. At last the hole closed, sealing off the sound.

Completely unruffled by this, Danny glanced up from his book. "Hey, Miss Morgan."

"Yo," she greeted.

"Running the tour?"

"And it's been incredibly successful. More than half gone already."

He set down his book and flashed her a thumbs-up. "Have fun. I think I'm gonna head back to my room."

Miss Morgan might have winked at him, but she was too far away to tell for certain. And the much-diminished student population followed her out into the hall.

It was the same hall they'd entered, she noticed, but much further down. And it continued on, but only for a short while.

"Over here is Miss Miktayee's room, and she's given us permission to check it out..."

Emberlynn tuned her out. Danny had just exited the door behind them, and was walking down the short end of the hallway. Toward his room? He turned toward a right-side door, opened it, and went inside.

The decision was swift. Danny's room _had_ to be cooler than Miss Miktayee's. Though Emberlynn had once considered the concept of going into his room disgusting, she soon realized that normal girls held no such barriers when confronted with the actual prospect. Several other girls had clearly gotten the same idea, for they followed her toward the door. There was an occasional giggle, but mostly silence as Emberlynn slowly placed her hand on the doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door open. Then, without a thought (Common Sense had given up on her), she slipped inside.

At first there was nothing, just darkness. But when the last girl came in, the door slammed shut behind them and a light came on. A black light, illuminating quite well some manner of diabolical-looking device in the middle of the room.

Danny, now in Phantom mode, floated into view of the group, an evil smirk on his face. He glanced over the small group, rubbing his hands together. "Welcome to Danny and Vlad's Chamber of Pain."

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"Well, here's Miss Miktayee's room," Miss Morgan announced as she walked inside.

Miss Miktayee's room was tastefully decorated, if slightly dark. The walls were of a medium-blue panelling embellished in gold foil that called to mind something Arabian. Meanwhile, Miss Miktayee was doing something with a pair of pliers and a bit of wire on a desk. "Oh, hello," she greeted. "Welcome to my lair. While I'm not busy dealing with you miscreants, I tinker around with various projects."

"What's this?" one of the girls asked, pointing to an exotically-designed clock.

"That's a Clock of Time," Miss Miktayee answered.

"Well, _duh_, all clocks tell time."

"This one's a little... hey, you're not supposed to touch that," Miss Miktayee warned - just a tad too late. The unfortunate girl began to de-age at an alarming rate, until in a few moments a toddler was wandering around the room crying for Mommy. "Just thank your lucky stars it wasn't set in reverse," Miss Miktayee admonished.

Meanwhile, Myrissa was looking at a enormous porcelain bowl. "What about this?"

"That's my ASM."

"ASM? What's an ASM - AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH!" At that moment, a large, robotic hand reached out of the bowl, grabbed her by the head, and yanked her headfirst inside. A few moments she was tossed out again, her blond hair neatly twisted and dripping atop her head.

"ASM - Automatic Swirly Machine. Janette, you _so_ should have told me you were taking the students on a tour. Then I could've disabled the Automatic Head-Grabbing System."

"I _did_ tell you. You gave me permission to bring them in here, remember?"

"Shhh! Don't tell them that."

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When the tour was over, only one student remained. Zoe Clampett clung to Miss Morgan for dear life, whimpering something to the effect of "I don't ever wanna chase a bishi again!"

Miss Morgan humored her. "Why not?"

"Th-the other students!"

The assistant headmistress glanced around, as though realizing for the first time that the body of students was missing (which was quite impossible, as she'd clearly noticed it before). "Oh. Where'd they all get off to?"


	11. Detention & Death

A new chapter, mostly on schedule. Fancy that. I thank you all for your patience, except for epobbp, who just gets burninated for being cheeky.

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Chapter 11: Detention & Death

Monday morning dawned bright and painful.

Painful for Emberlynn, because she had been caught in Danny and Vlad's Chamber of Pain on Sunday morning.

Painful for Nicholas, because he had spent the entirety of yesterday cleaning the bathroom. Even _after_ he'd eradicated all trace of the Dookie Ghosts (whom Miss Morgan had been so kind as to release in order to make a mess _worth_ cleaning), the Box Ghost had continued to push him until the area was sparkling clean and it was time for bed. The only breaks he'd had were for meals, and he'd had to sprint to and from the Great Hall for those.

And boy, was he sore. When the bells began to toll, he felt even worse, knowing that he _had_ to get up and go to class.

Dash returned their essays that day, and Nicholas felt somewhat heartened to see that he hadn't totally flunked the test -- he'd gotten a C and a "Cookie-Cutter Character" mark. But only somewhat heartened. He also felt somewhat affronted that Dash had accused his character of being a cookie. So maybe he acted a lot like Diablo, but villains acted like that!

Well, he _looked_ a lot like Diablo, too...

At least his _Ghost Physiology 101_ score was better than a lot. Emberlynn Fenten had been moaning at the lockers before _Fighting Ghosts_ that the test wasn't fair, they _couldn't_ give her a D minus because they'd expected more than she could possibly hope to achieve.

So _his_ score had been a C minus, but he hardly cared. It was still better than hers.

Any pretense of happiness was quickly wiped out after _Fighting Ghosts_, though. Detention was with Skulker, who was working on his own Chamber of Pain. Naturally, it was Nicholas' job to test everything.

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Monday went and Tuesday came, and Emberlynn still felt roughly like she'd been through a blender. It was all she could do to haul herself out of bed, and her hair went unbrushed again as her arms were too sore to lift for any length of time.

She'd decided there and then that if anyone offered to let her into the staff area again, she would politely decline and find something less punishing to do.

On the lighter side of things, she didn't have to deal with Samuel. She'd been somewhat afraid that he'd want to pursue a relationship after the dance, but given that he had assisted Danny and Vlad with the Chamber of Pain, he seemed to have decided as well as she had that the event had been completely platonic.

_Being Evil Ain't Easy_ was... well, to be easily defined, not easy. The only person to get a decent grade on last week's first test had been Jake the Snake, who had simply written "Wouldn't you like to know" as his essay.

This week, they were learning The Evil Look. It wasn't enough to _be_ evil, you had to have something about you that _looked_ evil. If you looked like Chris Sarandon or Nicole Kidman, you had it already, but alas, nobody did, so it all came down to the hairstyle and clothing.

"The problem with today's Evil Wardrobe is that it _must_ be Evil Overlord List Compliant. For example, it is not acceptable to wear black constantly and sport a goatee unless you are Cliff Simon."

"But you wear black!" Winifred protested.

"Yes, but only because I look so bloody sexy in it." He paused. "In all seriousness, Mr. Hartman did not write my character as compliant with the List, but that is hardly relevant. In order to _look_ evil, you should wear your hair either slicked-back, neatly-combed and parted on the side, ponytailed, or peaked like horns. Unless you are a woman. If you _are_ a woman, your hair should be cut business-like or incredibly long and straight, depending on the look you hope to achieve.

"A note to evil women: Never wear a dress that shows more than one-third of your total skin area! It should _not_ look like something Mariah Carey might wear.

"Regardless of your gender, keep high collars within reason. Such collars after the Chinese style can be very attractive, but _vampire_ collars are not. Even if you are a vampire."

He went on. And on, and on, and on. Classes usually lasted one to two hours, and Vlad made sure that he never repeated himself, especially if he thought someone might forget something. Emberlynn had become privy to this during the last two classes, and so scribbled down everything she found potentially useful. She was going to get a _decent_ score this time if it was the last thing she did.

It probably would be, too. The assignment for this class was to draw an outfit compliant with all these specifications that looked successfully evil, and write a three-page description of said outfit and its features on college-rule notebook paper. The last bit wouldn't be too difficult, as there was nothing but college-rule paper in her notebooks. But filling three pages... eep!

Last week's _Halfa Physiology 101_ had covered the bonding of carbon-based cells to ectoplasmic cells, and this week was covering the risk factors involved in such a bonding - such as age, size and species. Complex beings like humans were actually somewhat more difficult to bond, though easier in their formative years when their bodies were more receptive to change.

Emberlynn realized belatedly that Vlad must have split himself for Tuesday, because there was no way he could have taught the two classes simultaniously. That might explain why he seemed to eat so much.

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Detention on Tuesday was not with Skulker, fortunately. Instead, Nicholas was told, he was to come outside and help Valerie and Sam with the gardening. He was fairly sure he'd gotten off easy... until he saw what kind of garden they were trying to raise.

"The ones that try to eat you are the weeds," Valerie explained. "We need to get rid of those."

His firepower was a good lot of help, but he couldn't focus it enough to blast the weeds from far away, and thus ended up getting chewed on quite a lot as he toasted the vicious plants. Detention just never let up.

Around four o'clock came Miss Morgan's voice: "I regret to inform you all that Danny Fenton was just killed in the recent stampede. However, due to a strong belief that dead people become ghosts, Danny Phantom will fill in all his classes until we figure out how to bring him back to life."

OFUAP just never let up, either.

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Emberlynn earned herself a detention on Wednesday. It wasn't her _fault_, per se (or so she complained); she'd just been so inspired by Jazz's _Why There Aren't More Halfas_ class (which, despite the similarity in topic to the previous class, complained more about the rampant abuse of ghost portals in _other_ people's basements, especially Your Parents) and Danny and Sam's _Highschool Relations 101_ (Most people would jump at the chance to be popular, even if they did know Danny and company a little bit) that she'd just _had_ to start re-writing her story, new and improved. Then her thoughts had gotten a bit out of control, Samuel had picked up on it, and she'd been caught, so she had detention on Thursday _and_ Friday.

_Know Your Fenton Arsenal_ was hopelessly boring (Meet the Fenton Ghost Translator), but _Being Evil Ain't Easy_ was worse -- Skulker had announced that the assignment was to get to class ten minutes early and they'd all failed by default. So by the time she got out of _Fighting Ghosts_ (where she had lost hopelessly to Ember due to horrific loud music), she'd figured her day couldn't get any worse.

Then she discovered that she was to report to the staff area for detention, and immediately knew she'd been wrong. Of course. The universe just worked like that, didn't it? And this time, there wouldn't be any polite declining.

When she got there, Samuel was there. Of course, it just _had_ to be him. Emberlynn didn't say anything, just stuffed her hands into her uniform pockets and glowered.

"You'll be feeding the iguanas this evening," the Illithid explained.

She didn't feel like giving him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, she continued to glower as she followed him down the hallway.

"Normally, the Headmaster does it, but he's out fishing tonight."

She glowered.

Finally, they stopped at the far door of the hallway. Instead of opening the door, though, he stuffed his hands equally into his own pockets, leaned against the door and stared at her.

Emberlynn glowered.

"Why are you angry with me?" he wanted to know.

She wasn't going to answer. He was psychic, he should know!

Samuel raised an eyeridge, then pouted. "Come on, Emberlynn. What's with this?"

She rolled her eyes. Real cute, pulling the upset-boyfriend thing. "You're a traitor," she informed him.

He stopped pouting. "What did I do to you?"

"You sweet-talked me into going to the dance with you, then you ate my brains."

He frowned. "No I didn't. Your brains were spiked."

"Yeah, right," she scowled. "Then what happened Saturday night?"

"The punch. I understand it to be some kind of Earth custom. Tucker and Dash added a quart of vodka."

Then something clicked in Emberlynn's brain. A bit of memory, and a lot of Common Sense (it'd gone on strike when she'd tried to write fanfiction). The punch _had_ tasted pretty funny...

"You nearly killed me Sunday morning," she grumbled, seeing as her previous argument had been nulled.

"And ten other girls. It was assuredly not personal."

"Well, you didn't have to be so stinking fun beforehand!"

There. She'd said it. Emberlynn had finally phrased the source of her major aggressions.

Somewhere inside her, Common Sense applauded.

Samuel stared down at his feet for a moment, then back up -- or he seemed to; it was hard to tell with those eyes of his. "Sorry." He frowned. "Of course, I made no literal pretense of actual fraternization."

"Whatever that was."

"I meant-"

"This is detention, right? Let's get the iguanas fed."

Samuel looked somewhat disenheartened, but opened the door and motioned for Emberlynn to step inside.

The room was wall-to-wall with large tanks, holding more iguanas than Emberlynn really cared to count. In the center was a large and squat refrigerator, with a counter on the top. "The iguanas eat salad," Samuel explained. "Everything's under the counter."

Sighing, Emberlynn stalked over to the large facility and opened its large doors. Inside, she could see, were all manner of vegetables -- lettuce, cucumber, tomato, eggplant, celery, and some things she couldn't make out.

"The dishes are in their tanks. All you have to do is open the doors and fetch them before the iguanas have a chance to bite."

She nodded stupidly.

"And you need to make sure you make the right salads. Fenten, Fentin and Fentun won't eat eggplant, Jubba the Hutt enjoys extra meat in his, Samanth won't eat any meat..."

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_Highschool Relations 101_ on Friday was actually kind of refreshing -- it mentioned Danny/Dash slash. Fenton was still dead, so Danny Phantom was assisting Sam.

"Me and Dash -- ew," he said simply. "Even if there was a chance that we could get past our 'rivalry', and I'm pretty sure there's no way _he_ would, it just isn't _canon._ Despite all denials of serious feelings, I _am_ falling in love with Sam throughout the course of the series."

"Bullies just don't fall for the kids they pick on, anyway," Sam added. "The kind of issues that that particular sort of relationship has just wouldn't allow for it."

Somewhere in front of Nicholas, a hand went up.

"Fredric Jacovy, you have a question?"

"Yeah," said Fredric. "Why do you keep telling us what kind of stories we can and can't write? We don't go around telling you what kind of stories _you_ can or can't write. And didn't it ever strike you that we write this stuff _because_ it's not canon? If canon did it, we wouldn't have to."

"Not canon and anti-canon are two different things," Sam answered smoothly. "For instance, every plot you write, every minor villain you invent is non-canon. On the other hand, things like Danny/Dash slash and Vlad's adopted halfa daughter are anti-canon."

"Don't start ranting about Vlad's adopted daughter," Danny warned. "We'll be covering that later."

"Anyway, the point is, the chances of Danny actually turning out gay are about four million to one, being as how he has been subtly leaning toward Sam and this _is_ a fairly traditional show, no offense. And for the same reason, Dash has about three million to one odds of turning out gay. And even if they both did, the chances of a relationship developing between them are about twelve million to a half."

"So you see where the problem lies."

The class didn't seem too convinced, so Danny pulled out some examples of particularily ridiculous D/D slash and began reading aloud.

By the end of the class, Nicholas was glad he wasn't a slash writer.

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"What's detention like this Friday?" Miss Morgan queried of her assistant.

"Well," said Skulker, "the weeds have come back, so we're putting Gregarious Nithead on those, Cavana Cocoon has iguana duty, Orville Right's assigned to cleaning the pool-"

"Ouch."

"-Nicholas Diablo is to sit in solitary, writing 'I will not complain in class' three thousand times-"

"Mmm... Lancer's a genius."

"Emberlynn Fenten is mowing the grounds and cleaning the floors, Murray Heffernan is assisting Ed-"

"A lot of haircuts so soon?"

"Sharpening and polishing his tools."

"Ah. Speaking of polishing, I believe you're starting to need it. Does Priscilla Masters have an assignment yet?"

"For Monday, not that I'm aware."

"Great." She reached into her desk and pulled out a spray-can with a bright urple lid. This she tossed to Skulker, who managed to catch it with minimal fumbling. "Guaranteed to put their eyes out. Have Skultor help."

Skulker grinned evilly as he examined the can. "This should fulfill that requirement nicely."

"For now, anyway. I think I'll get some grorange for Halloween. What about the other miscreants?"

"RealEmber has been volunteered as a test subject for Plasmius."

Miss Morgan whistled. "Harsh. Did she write that stuff?"

"She was spotted attempting to write it on campus."

"I take it all back. Tell Vlad to have fun."


	12. Weekends & Washing

Here's the new chapter. Sorry for the delay; my dad got a new computer with Windows XP, and since all my stories were in .DOC format, we had to find the code to convert them, and on top of that our Internet connection was down for several days. So it was a bit difficult getting everything together, but it's all better now.

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Chapter 12: Weekends & Washing

Saturday started with a bang.

While this may have been a normal occurence in other Universities, OFUAP was generally a good bit quieter -- especially on the weekends, when there were no bells calling on the students to get up for breakfast.

But whatever this bang was, it was quite enough to not only awaken Nicholas but also send him standing up before he'd gotten out of bed. He promptly hit his head on the above bunk and toppled out onto the floor with an uncharacteristic oath.

Unfortunately, while his body was fully awake, his mind was not, having primed itself for a nice long sleep-in session. As a consequence, it took him a good four seconds for it to register that Hellfire was standing over him, looking somewhat bemused.

Realizing that their position constituted a situation of some awkwardness, Nicholas picked himself up from the floor, idly brushing off his dinosaur-print sleeve. "What was _that?_" he asked immediately.

"Dunno," Hellfire answered. "It just went 'ka-blooie' all of a sudden."

"Yeah, I noticed. What time is it?"

"Oh-eight-hundred hours," announced an unfamiliar voice.

While Nicholas wasn't very familiar with all his roomates (being as how there were about twelve of them), he'd gotten to know their voices, and this one did not belong to any of them. Turning around, he saw that Tucker was standing in the room.

"Sorry about the explosion. Mr. Fenton's trying out some kind of new invention. Fangirl-proof shields, I think. And it worked. We're just lucky it happened outside."

"Another stampede, huh?" Hellfire chuckled.

"Yep. Problem is, the shield releases about three times as much energy as is put into it, so a bunch of fangirls running at top speed... _boom._"

Nicholas found himself grinning. "I like it."

Having done his job, Tucker left.

Nicholas looked pointedly at Hellfire. "How come _you_ never stampede anybody?"

"Evil loners have better self-control," she answered. "Oh, I gotta get going. Clan of Evil's having a meeting in the basement."

Nicholas resisted the urge to goggle. "We've got a basement?"

"Yup. Y'know, you really ought to join the Clan. We're coming up with some pretty cool stuff."

He thought for a moment. Hellfire was a member, and she didn't seem to be suffering for it; besides, she _was_ his definitely-not-but-something-vaguely-bordering-on-resembling girlfriend. He made his decision.

"Hold up. I'm coming along."

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"Good _morning,_ Fenten!"

Emberlynn shrieked and toppled out of bed, sending a good bit of pain through her system. It seemed disgustingly well-timed, as her iguana injuries (barring those she'd recieved trying to retrieve Bakster's food dish) had only recently heeled.

Worse than the impact, though, was the solid _crunch_ as her ribs were abruptly squashed under a giant A.

It could have been considered fortunate, then, that the Box Ghost was there, because he plucked the A up off her chest, grumbled something about it not being "square enough" then tossed it away. He then turned his attention back to Emberlynn. "Ready to clean the bathroom?"

She stared at him stupidly. "Whaaa?"

"You didn't read the fine print," he grunkled happily. "As your punishment, you get to clean the bathroom today!"

"I did _so_ read the fine print!" she argued.

"Nuh-uh." He held out his hand, and the peculiar sheets of paper appeared in it. "Recognize this?"

"My entrance form."

"Right." He flipped past a few pages. "Right here: Who is the Half-Blood Prince? Answer: Dunno. Fine print clearly states, do not answer this question. You didn't read the fine print."

_Crud._

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"Ahh, Hellfire, you made it," said Evil Incarnate evilly. "And... what's this I see? You persuaded Nicholas to join?"

"He's considering it," Hellfire answered.

"_Seriously_ considering it," Nicholas added. After all, the Universe probably wouldn't be so inclined to come after him if he had a dozen evil ghost or halfa friends on his side.

"Excellent. But you realize, if you refuse to join, you will be barred from any meetings hereafter."

He smirked. "How evil."

"This _is_ the Clan of Evil."

"So... how'd you guys get the spiff basement?"

"Skulker lent it to us," Hellfire answered.

"And you _trust_ him?"

"Hey, he's evil as we are," Demetria pointed out.

"Of course we don't _trust_ him," Incarnate answered. "A little trust goes a long way. The less you have, the further you'll go."

Nicholas allowed a little grin to seep into his smirk. "_The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates_. _Shlock Mercenary._"

"Precisely. Which is why if you do not join the Clan, we cannot allow you to absorb any more of our information than that of one meeting."

"So, what do you guys do around here?"

Just as he'd suspected, it turned out that they made evil plans. Today's idea was to sabotage next week's _Behaving in Class_ (and, after several hours of _Hooked on Phonics_, he couldn't say that he blamed them). As they were _all_ in the class, all they had to do was pick a time to begin their havok-wreaking and iron out any blips or wrinkles.

Nicholas had joined the Clan before the meeting was half over. Unfortunately, it was Clan policy to give swirlies to all new recruits.

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"Ugh," Emberlynn moaned. "Aren't we about done?"

"Let's see," said the Box Ghost evilly, glancing at the watch he now wore. "Nope. It's only three PM. Bedtime isn't until ten."

"Uuuurrrrrggggghhhhh..."

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Sunday morning was a little less eventful. There weren't any meetings, so Nicholas slept nice and late before coming in for breakfast, which had thankfully been preserved for stragglers. (Naturally, this didn't make it _taste_ any better, but at least it was fresh.) Afterward, Hellfire offered to show him the outside of the building, as he hadn't yet seen it himself.

He accepted, of course.

The front door turned out to be remarkably easy to access -- simply go down the short corridor on the opposite end of the balcony in the Great Hall, and there it was. And the outside of the University was, surprisingly, rather breathtaking.

As he'd suspected, the building was in a creepy-looking forest, a good way away from the road. A wrought-iron fence apparently stretched around the entire property, fastened in front by large gates decorated with elaborately-formed M's. Through these gates ran a dirt driveway, which coming in twisted off toward a clearly added-on but aesthetically-coordinated garage; going out, it headed straight into what appeared to be a better-worn dirt road. In any ground that hadn't been worn by traffic, tall grey-green grass could be seen.

"Crabgrass," Hellfire remarked distastefully, wrinkling her nose. "C'mon, I'll show you out back. The grounds are huge."

Feeling rather amiable at the moment, Nicholas allowed her to lead him around the ridiculously gigantic building. And, it turned out, the grounds _were_ huge. The fence stretched out farther into the trees than he could see, while smaller dividers next to the building marked off the Fighting Ghosts area and the garden, whose carnivorous weeds were already growing back with a vengeance.

"I like to hide in the forest," Hellfire remarked. "Nobody can see you in there."

That _did_ sound like fun.

"I'll show you my favorite tree, if you don't tell anybody."

"What motive would I have to tell anybody?"

"I dunno, you're evil. And don't talk like that. You're starting to sound like Vlad." She began walking in the direction of the forest, and Nicholas followed quickly.

"Well, he does teach _how_ to be evil."

"And what could be more evil than refusing to learn?"

Nicholas grinned. "Learning and using his teachings against him."

She nodded. "Point taken."

Nicholas grinned as they slipped between the tall and barren trees. Golly, Hellfire had a nice body... almost as nice as Jazz's.

Almost.

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By the time Emberlynn worked up the nerve to actually drag her sore and exhausted body out of bed, it was quite a bit closer to noon than she really liked. She'd actually woken up awhile earlier, but decided that since it was still the weekend she'd milk the morning for all the laziness it was worth.

The downside to this behavior was that by the time she _did_ get up, she was starving. It also meant that she had to spend more time later doing the homework she'd been unable to finish on account of detention. Boy, if anyone ever thought that a lack of classes was a good thing, she was sure they'd have learned otherwise from the length of classes and ridiculous assignment demands.

And, sadistically, being a halfa couldn't help her. She'd always sort of thought that having awesome powers would be helpful, but ectoplasm didn't do the homework.

Lunch was being served when she stumbled into the Great Hall. There weren't a lot of people in just yet, so the Hall was fairly empty. Stomach now fairly growling, she plopped herself into a chair and began filling a plate.

"Try the broccoli," someone whispered from behind her. Turning to meet the source of the voice, her eyes met thin air. Shrugging, she served herself a heap of the yellow-sauced broccoli that indeed sat on the table.

But when she actually tried the stuff, she found herself regretting it. Extra curry was a taste she had never acquired.

After breakfast, she found herself at a bit of a loss. This was the first free weekend she'd had, and she wasn't exactly sure what there was to do... besides homework, anyway.

Maybe she should try to sneak into the staff section. Surely if Miss Morgan wasn't expecting anyone, the death-traps wouldn't be in place. And it was high time she tried that phase-beside-the-hallway theory. Yes, that would take up her time nicely.

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"Here we are," Hellfire announced, promptly going ghost and floating up into the tree. Nicholas followed quickly. Being a ghost, he actually found it easier to float than walk, especially after his "ghost powers" had been desuppressed.

The downside to this, of course, was the flaming pain that frequently populated his limbs. It'd gotten a little better after eight _Fighting Ghosts_ classes, but only a little. In fact, it was generally more distracting than his cat -- which was saying something, being as how she was a Siamese and therefore the most annoying creature in existence.

The tree _was_ pretty awesome. Its bare branches grew together in a way that almost resembled a giant bird's nest -- the perfect place for lounging on weekends.

"I like to write fanfiction here," she said, grinning evilly. "Nobody ever finds it."

"What kind of fanfiction?" he asked idly.

"The one I was working on before I came here," she answered. "A Danny Phantom/Resident Evil crossover. My character gets ghost powers from the T virus, then teams up with Danny to defeat the Undead."

Nicholas nodded, a fleck of understanding glimmering in his brain as to why she'd been brought here.

"They haven't managed to catch me yet," she beamed. "I guess they only check inside the building."

"You don't ever bring it in?"

"Nah. There's a hole in the tree next door; that's where I keep the story."

"You handwrite? Very daring."

"Nahh... I just like the way it feels."

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It was a very disappointed and very sore Emberlynn that went to bed that night. The outside walls of the staff area had been fortified with fangirl-proof shields, and the security ghosts had been attracted by the noise when she hit the floor. She'd spent much of the afternoon in Skulker's torture chamber somewhere in the basement... how many torture chambers _were_ there in this loonie bin? (She managed to phase through the falling Y, but just barely.)

She'd managed to lose herself in homework for a few hours after, but her aching body wasn't very good for that. Oh, well... tomorrow was back to class, and she'd have better things to do than to get into trouble. In a way, it was almost relieving.


	13. Servant & Stuff

And noooow... Chapter 13! And guess what? A Mere Servant of God finally gets his cameo! Sorry 'bout that wait, man, but it was the first place I could squeeze you in.

Refresher Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any of its canon characters and/or plots. I am in no way affiliated with Danny Phantom or Butch Hartman. I also do not own Bonejangles or any of the songs featured in the dance. I also do not own _Sky High_ or any of its characters. BTW, I actually saw the movie some time back. This chapter's a little... old.

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Chapter 13: Servant & Stuff

On Monday morning, it rained.

Hellfire, of course, was tiffed. Her fanfiction in the tree was undoubtedly ruined. But Nicholas was feeling pretty good -- until A Mere Servant Of God came barreling down the hallways.

Not just barreling. Servant was in ghost form, flying down the hallways at ridiculous speeds with a bullhorn, yelling about a troll infestation somewhere in the school. "Lock all your doors and windows! Make sure your shoes are on the right feet! Don't wear pajamas to class!"

"Why not?" Kill-o-Zap wondered. "We wear pyjamas all the time."

The crazed halfa must have made at least four rounds before a net suddenly popped into the hallway, snagging him. A moment later, Miss Miktayee stepped forward. "Sorry, Mr. Herald Angel, Christmas isn't until next semester."

Then came breakfast, in which a small group of ghosts and halfas declared themselves superior to the few ordinary humans and dedicated themselves to, from that day forward, granting swirlies on all students without powers.

Miss Morgan looked happy. She also stared at Nicholas kind of funny on numerous occasion, at least once mumbling something about Steven Strait and the word "uncanny".

"What's up with her?" Nicholas wanted to know.

"Dunno," Hellfire answered.

"She finally got to see _Sky High,_" Kill-o-Zap explained.

Nicholas hoped she wouldn't ever realize that he'd actually designed his character after Warren.

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Monday was actually pretty uneventful, and went by quicker than Emberlynn had supposed it might. Then Tuesday came, and brought with it _Halfa Physiology 101._

"O-kay, where were we?" Danny queried. "Oh, yeah -- Halfa Powers and Elements."

"W00T!" someone exclaimed.

Danny raised his eyebrows.

"Don't get it into your heads that you will be enjoying this," Vlad remarked. "In fact, I believe with much certainty that you will not enjoy it at all."

"You see," said Danny eagerly, "the funny truth about halfa powers is... they don't have elements."

Several jaws disconnected from their respective heads.

"Since they're ectoplasm-based, that's pretty much an element in and of itself. 'Ghost-element', you could say."

"Then how does anyone get rockin' cool powers?" someone asked.

Vlad winced. "Well, you should know that 'rockin' cool' is one of the single least cool things you could possibly utter. In fact, the expression serves little purpose other than to make you appear idiotic. But I digress."

"I guess you don't really mean that _my_ powers aren't cool," Danny remarked. "Anyway, ectoplasm can do some pretty interesting stuff, a lot of which could actually be interpreted as elemental. It depends on what kind of powers you're inclined to having."

"For example, you could _say_ that my powers are Dark-element," said Vlad, "but it just so happens that my particular brand of ectoplasm comes in that particular color. In reality, the only true difference between my powers and Danny's is that they are much stronger."

"Watch who you say that around," Danny warned.

"...Which, ironically, never seems to help me in any way," he amended.

"Anyway, a lot of you 'halfas' out there have it in your heads that your abilities are actually fire-based; truth is, our good applications staff just configured your powers so they involve fire. You're not actually fire-elemental, just really prone to..." He glanced down at a notebook on the desk. "Exciting of ambient molecules. This is 'cause ectoplasmic powers are really energized, and that energy makes heat really well."

"On the other hand," Vlad continued, "those of you who purport to have ice-based abilities are simply capable of de-agitating ambient molecules by drawing the energy from the area, thus relaxing them into a cooled state."

"WHICH WAS A GOOD BIT HARDER TO FIGURE OUT!" Miss Morgan bellowed.

Emberlynn wasn't entirely sure, but she thought her brain had exploded.

"All of this is only possible because the ectoplasm fused into your cellular lattice is inclined to such a build-up of energy."

"Actually," Danny corrected, "the 'ice-based powers' are possible because the fusion is different from a regular sort, so it's actually inclined to absorb energy rather than discharge."

"But, in essence: The basis is energy, not elemental."

"What about music element?" someone demanded.

"The energy is put off in such a way that it creates vibrations strong enough to be heard."

Emberlynn was entirely sure that her brain had exploded.

"Now, since we're on the subject, I believe this is a good time to, as Miss Morgan puts it, bash this into the ground," Vlad remarked. "One of our students believes that she is half human, half ghost, and half hanyou."

"Hanyou -- half demon, from Inuyasha," Danny explained.

"She is under the impression that she can shapeshift and control fire, water and wind, in addition to regular demon powers. Can anyone tell me what is wrong with this?"

Well, it was really strong, but that just made it - _way too powerful,_ Common Sense nagged her. She ignored it.

"Normally," said Danny, "you just can't control wind, because of the way it works. That actually requires a sort of psychic power that Desiree was nice enough to give her, but neither halfas nor hanyous actually have. So it's extraneous."

"Additionally and most importantly," said Vlad, "Danny Phantom is a realm for ghosts and occasionally half-ghosts-"

"NOT FREAKING DEMIGODS!" Danny exploded.

Vlad nodded. "Yes, that, precisely."

"Sorry," Danny muttered. "I just had to get that out. You see, there are plenty of powerful characters out there, but because the show is basically about me, the villains aren't supposed to be more powerful than I can defeat, and good guys shouldn't be so powerful that they have to save my rear end from the ultra-powerful villains."

"It upsets the careful balance of the show," Vlad explained. "Which happens to upset _me_ a good bit; according to this formula, I will never defeat Daniel or rule the Ghost Zone. Perhaps I should set my sights on areas less protected by canonical rules..."

"Er - Vlad - class," Danny reminded him.

"Ah, yes. What is more, it should be explained at this point that the realms of Danny Phantom and Inuyasha are particularily exclusive. As are several other realms, but that will be covered in a later class."

"Now, about that shapeshifting..."

"The young lady did not specify, so Miss Miktayee gave her the ability to shapeshift into a toaster."

Danny snickered. "Okay, then, never mind."

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On Wednesday morning, Nicholas found his ears assaulted by a barrage of extremely loud cursing from a voice he didn't recognize.

A moment later, Miss Morgan came on the audio. "ATTENTION, STUDENTS! PLEASE FORGIVE SAMUEL; AS HE CAN READ MINDS HE HAS BEEN FORCED TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THE LANGUAGE THAT HAS PASSED THROUGH YOUR MINDS, AND IT IS DRIVING HIM A TAD BIT INSANE! HE WILL BE BACK TO NORMAL IN SHORT ORDER, AND WITH ANY LUCK - AND YOUR COOPERATION - THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN! IN OTHER NEWS, IT IS NOW OH-SEVEN-HUNDRED HOURS! BREAKFAST WILL BE SERVED AT SEVEN-FIFTEEN PROMPT IN THE GREAT HALL!"

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Miss Morgan shot Samuel a glare. "My _ears_, Samuel! Did you _have_ to do that?"

Samuel nodded. "Sorry, Miss Morgan. I can't always take it. How much longer are we going to have these students here?"

"After this, just another couple of semesters."

Samuel's eyes widened. "Three semesters!"

"They're only three months long."

Samuel furrowed his brow. "Wouldn't that make them trimesters?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"And for that very special reason," said Miss Morgan firmly, "we _don't_ talk about it."

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"Okay, guys, welcome to _Why There Aren't More Halfas,_" Jazz greeted, with all the flourish of a first-class opening, which this wasn't. "Today we're going to talk about something special: Canon Characters Becoming Halfas.

"Exhibit A-" and here she began drawing a figure on the chalkboard behind her "-Sam Manson."

A few of the audience groaned, but several of the male population simply drooled. Nicholas, being a Jazz person, was already drooling internally -- though, so far, internal was as far as he'd let it get. Girls weren't really into those streams hanging from guys' mouths.

"A lot of writers think it's not fair that Sam doesn't get powers," Jazz explained. "You know, since she does all the work, gets all the flak, et cetera. So they decide to rectify the situation.

"In some stories, these powers were Danny's idea, and in fact were a gift of some kind. In other cases, she had them all along, or recieves them completely by accident. They aren't always ghost powers. Sometimes she finds out she's actually a witch, like in _Sabrina._ But anyway.

"Why does Sam need powers? At the end of an episode, she's the one saving Danny's butt. It seems that even without powers, she's a lot more competent than he is, at least where it comes to keeping a level head. And figuring things out. Sam's a smart character. She doesn't really need to be Superwoman.

"Another thing I should mention is balance," she continued. "Danny has the powers because Danny is the main character. The show's called Danny Phantom, not Danny & Sam. And even though Sam plays a pretty vital role, the powers that Danny has make him special in his group of friends, and that's what made him worth making a TV show about.

"I'm not even sure why you do it," she admitted. "I guess it's because you think Sam needs to be equal to Danny. It just isn't true. Two people can be perfectly good friends - and even more - without being equal, and there are plenty of ways people _can_ be equal without having similar traits. For instance, my dad and Vlad Masters are equally crazy, and look how different they are.

"Maybe instead of giving Sam powers, you should play off her good points," Jazz suggested. "Write a story about her being a hero without any special powers. Sam doesn't have to live up to Danny's standards -- let her be her own kind of person. Let her be special in her _own_ way."

A hand went up.

"James the Giant Peach?" Jazz prompted.

"Like, if I give Sam different kind of powers, you know, as in not ghost, doesn't that make her special in her own way, or something?"

Jazz frowned. "No. All it does is say to the audience that people aren't satisfied with her the way she is. Like maybe she isn't good enough. Sam's a great character, and she doesn't need superpowers to be special. Do you think superpowers would have helped her to drive a motorcycle into Desiree?"

"Hey!" a familiar voice shouted.

Jazz ignored the ghost's indignation. "Or would they help her to notice the tiny details that Danny always misses? If the only reason you're giving her powers is so she can fight alongside Danny, think about it. She's already fighting alongside Danny -- Sam Manson style.

"With that in mind," she said, "your assignment is to write a story, at least three thousand words long, about Sam's existing qualities and how she uses them to help Danny in a short plot you invent -- a plot that Danny could not have gotten through without her help. Understand?"

There was a round of nods.

"That was _so_ unfair," James LeTourneau complained. "Man, she _needs_ those powers. I mean, maybe she helps Danny without them, but what really turns me on is a woman kicking butt. Especially in one of those ghost suits."

Emberlynn rolled her eyes. "Remind me never to stand next to you in _Fighting Ghosts._"

"Please. That's not kicking butt. That's _slaughter._"

He was right, but nonetheless she decided to change the subject. "Could I have the top bunk tonight?"

"What for?"

"Because I sleep better at high elevations."

"Yeah, right. Sure you're not just asking out of the generosity of your soul, as all the typos you make in your sleep keep landing on me?"

"Was that what's wrong with your ribs?"

"Yup."

"I'm sorry. Why don't you sleep diffused?"

"I'm a halfa. I can't stay ghost when I'm asleep. Besides, I'd wake up in the floor. Do you know what that's like?"

"Not really."

"Try it sometime. It happened after I had to clean the bathroom."

"You too?"

"_Everybody_ too," he corrected. "Nobody read the fine print, so everyone has to clean the bathroom once."

"Keeps them clean," she remarked.

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes. "I wonder if Miss Morgan will ever figure out which students were actually telling the truth about the Half-Blood Prince. Last I heard, she had the contenders narrowed down to Tom Riddle, Dumbledore, Snape and Tom Riddle."

"How'd she figure that out?"

"Dice, mostly."

"Did _Highschool Relations _suc or what?" Winifred asked abruptly, officially ending the discussion with a crashing _K._

"Yeah," Emberlynn agreed. "I mean, come on. Everybody knows that when Sam doesn't get Danny, she leaves."

"_When?_" Winifred echoed.

"I mean _if._ But seriously, whose business is it of theirs if she marries another guy and has a kid before he dies? If Sam gets married her husband _has_ to die, so she and Danny can get back together."

(Not that Emberlynn had written that sort of fiction, but she though it was a pretty good plot.)

"And what do they mean, Danny might not go to collage?"

The discussion was cut short by the fall of _E._


	14. Lessons & Lancer

Here you go, and only a day late -- pretty good considering the new expansion pack for TS2. I'm rather proud of this chapter, mostly on account of Jack and Mr. Lancer. :P

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Chapter Fourteen: Lessons & Lancer

"Good morning, everbody!" Jack Fenton greeted. "Today, I am going to introduce you to the Fenton Ghost Catcher!"

The Ghost Catcher was something of a celebrity among fans -- it had, after all, led to one of the more drool-worthy episodes in the series. And thus it was met with applause.

"Before I begin, can anyone here tell me what it does?"

One of the students immediately raised her hand.

"Amelia Octavio, yes?"

Octavio giggled. "It turns Danny into two Dannys."

Jack frowned. "Besides that."

Feeling particularily knowledgeable - and therefore, smug - Emberlynn raised her hand. "It seperates ghosts from whatever they're stuck to," she answered. "So, for example, if a ghost is, um, overshadowing a human, the Ghost Catcher sucks the ghost out of the human."

Jack nodded. "Very good, Emberlynn. And do you know exactly which and how many episodes this beauty has appeared in?"

"Um..."

"Just kidding! You can tell me all about that in your essay. Now, while the Ghost Catcher is a really great device, it does have one particular piece of peripheral that makes it a bit hard to use -- it's ground-bound."

He motioned to the leg which supported the device.

"And that's why I've come up with the Fenton Ghost Catcher Mark Two! It works like a lasso!"

Jack retrieved another object from behind the desk -- a round piece like the business end of the Catcher, affixed to a metallic cord. "In order to use this baby, all you have to do is swing her around and land her on the poor overshadowed individual -- oops."

In describing the Catcher Mark Two's function, he had also been demonstrating it -- and, entirely by accident, landed on Myrissa Rippen.

Abruptly, there were two of them.

"Hold on a minute," Jack mumbled, edging out from behind his desk. "I'll fix that."

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"One of the most important things about being evil," Vlad remarked, "is to be consistent. You absolutely must have a style. Or, in other words, 'once a fruit loop, always a fruit loop'."

Skulker snickered loudly.

"_I_ am not a fruit loop," Vlad clarified.

Skulker guffawed.

"Be _quiet!_" Vlad ordered.

The gleaming urple suit was quiet.

"For example, Skulker here-"

"Let me tell them!"

"All right. The floor goes to you, then."

"You see this suit?" Skulker asked. "This is what makes me Skulker. I suppose I could trade it out for some other kinds of equipment, but then nobody would know who I was when I showed up to TERRIFY THEIR BRAINS OUT! Ahem."

"This method of identification reaches to all manner of characters," Vlad continued. "Perhaps most notably, the Box Ghost, who is continually associated with boxes, squareness, et cetera. Technus' trademark is his manipulation of technology. Desiree grants wishes with diabolically marvelous twists. I... attempt to steal Maddie, kidnap Daniel, kill his simpering stodgy skunk of a father, and other such things."

Skulker snickered.

"By _other such things_, I mean any sort of things that I feel will be conducive to achieving my goals. I have several such goals -- for instance, I wish to rule the Ghost Zone, I wish to rule Earth, and most importantly I wish to be loved by those that have rejected me in the past." He sighed and wiped a tear from his eye. "Every villain has some manner of goal. Villainry without a goal is not villainry at all; without reason, your actions will be meaningless. 'I do it because I'm evil' is never a valid excuse. Your goal or goals should shape your consistent style."

"I'm gonna kill that rat Phantom and hang him from a bedpost!" Skulker cackled.

"Which is why _his_ style includes a great amount of highly dangerous weaponry," Vlad pointed out. "Though I am not entirely sure why he is outfitted with explosives..."

"Shaddup!"

"The Box Ghost's goal is to obtain boxes, Technus seeks immense power, Desiree also seeks power though through a different source and likely for a different reason, et cetera. Always remember what your goal is. If it is not important enough for you to remember, it is not important enough to carry through. Not that a quest for cardboard is truly important.

"Above all, your goals and style should be your own. Never chase after someone else's goal simply because you admire that person; what you seek to obtain should be what you truly want, and your method should be the best possible method you can concieve to achieve what you desire. Always consider your abilities and work, not in spite of or around, but with your limitations. Every part of you, even that debilitating phobia of snakes you may have, should be addressed and put to your use; for if you simply hide it under a mass of advantages it may be exploited by someone more resourceful than you.

"But singling your _modus operandi_ is simply the beginning. While you should never change flair midway, it is helpful and often crucial to grow on what you have. Upgrade, if you will. Improve on your style with the changing seasons. Let it evolve to suit the demands of time; otherwise you will most certainly fall against the extremely adaptable _hero._ Which we absolutely do not want."

"You fall against the hero all the time," someone pointed out.

"That is entirely beside the point!" he snapped. "Plasimus, if you will..."

Said ghost iguana fell upon the offending student, knocking his head to the desk. Apparently satisfied, the iguana then hopped down and scampered away.

"You will refrain from interrupting classes in the future. Consider yourself fortunate that this was not Lancer's class, because... um, nevermind. Trogdor the Burninator, detention on Saturday afternoon. Just because an idosyncracy occurs in someone else's regime does not mean it can not be used to your benefit as well. And there is absolutely no excuse not to punish someone who displeases you."

"Or kill them," Skulker added.

"Forgiveness is good for morale, dear comrade," Vlad reminded him.

"Sure, but you gotta kill them eventually."

"Indeed. Sadly, we are forbidden from killing any of our students, but many of you have experienced firsthand exactly how much excruciating discomfort your tiny little bodies can survive."

"Huhuhuhuhuhuh..."

"Now, since we still have a considerable amount of time to go, shall we revisit a few Pre-Algebra classes?"

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"Welcome back to _Highschool Relations 101,_" Sam intoned. "Blah, blah, blah, threats of detention, et cetera. Okay, let's get on with it."

Danny nodded. "This class is going to cover something which I know you all just _hate_ to think about -- the Under-Appreciated Characters of Danny Phantom. Starting with... my dad."

He picked up a piece of chalk and began to sketch Jack Fenton on the blackboard.

"Hiya, son!" the half-completed sketch announced, causing Danny to squeak and drop the chalk. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to be featured in your class today. Hey, you mind giving me some legs here?"

Danny retrieved the piece of chalk and scratched his head. "What is this, ghost chalk?"

"I think it's magic chalk," Sam said. "We just had a Harry Potter crossover, so it's probably left from then."

"Legs?" Jack interrupted.

"Uh, sure." Danny reached over and quickly finished the drawing.

Jack began to stretch his new limbs, perhaps admiring his artist's handiwork. "Thanks, son. So, what's this class all about?"

Sam sighed. "We were getting to that. Today we're going to try to explain to these dimwitted students the _good_ points of a few under-appreciated Danny Phantom characters."

"You mean... you're going to tell them good things about me? Wow! I'm... amazed. Thanks, Danny, Sam, that's really sweet of you-"

Danny coughed. "Uh... 'Dad', you're kind of interrupting the class."

"Oh! I'm sorry. My boy, the teacher. I'm so proud of you... um, class. Right." He cleared his throat and was quiet.

"Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh yeah."

"Reasons why Danny's dad," Sam continued, "even though he's crazy, weird, ghost-obsessed and a little overbearing-"

"I am listening to this, you know," the drawing interrupted.

"is still, and will always be, a good guy."

"Well, for one thing, he's a genius," Danny began.

The chalk drawing blushed profusely.

"I mean, really. He invented every piece of equipment I've ever used. Even if he never knew that half of them really worked. My dad makes the best anti-ghost equipment in Amity Park and maybe the state."

"Without his Ghost Thermos, Danny would never have been able to get rid of all the ghosts that have come to Amity Park."

"Without the Boo-merang..."

Sam cringed.

"... I'd probably be stuck in the Ghost Zone somewhere, getting beat up by scores of really angry ghosts."

"Without the Specter Deflector..."

"...or the Fenton Ghost Peeler..."

"...or the Ghost Gauntlets..."

"Is that why your mother keeps finding this stuff in your room?" the drawing interrupted.

"...I'd be dead," Danny concluded.

"We'd all be dead, and planet Earth would be under the rule of some tyrant ghost king," Sam added.

"And besides that," said Danny, "he's my _dad._ He brings the family income-"

"-even though we have no idea _how-_"

"-he looks over his family, he _cares_ about his family-"

"And he's easily swayed in important situations."

"What do you mean?" the drawing demanded.

"Never mind," Sam amended.

"Actually," said Danny, "come to think of it, if my dad hadn't built the Fenton Ghost Portal, none of these ghosts would have come to Amity Park-"

"_But_," Sam interrupted quickly, "Vlad still has _his_ ghost portal, and we'd be in a lot worse danger from _him_ since _you_ wouldn't have your ghost powers."

Danny shrugged. "Exactly. So he may be kind of an annoying character, but we all owe a _lot_ to my dad."

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_Behaving in Class_ was starting, and the Clan of Evil was in place. Weapons at the ready, bombs at the ready, and most importantly, the large net set to deploy as soon as Mr. Lancer stepped into the room.

As Nicholas' watch inched toward the turn of the hour, the last straggling students took place at their desks. It was a well-rehearsed habit; in Lancer's class, you were there before the bells sounded or you lost points.

Taking his last opportunity, the ghost glanced around at his classmates. They sat straight upright, staring forward as though they'd been glued to that position. Even if one fell asleep, it was of the utmost importance that they maintained their posture, because points were detracted for that too.

But not for long. Today, the Clan of Evil was taking over the class, and then those poor students would be free to behave as they liked for the duration of the class. What they would do was of no importance; they'd figure that out later. The real concern was maintaining control -- which was what the bombs were for; if Lancer tried to intervene or tell anyone about their takeover, someone would set off the explosives.

It was a brilliant, and possibly foolproof idea. Today, _Behaving in Class_ would, in utmost irony, become "free time" for the students of the University.

Nicholas allowed himself a quiet cackle. War was sweet.

Above them, the bells began to toll that melancholy sound that typically heralded the start of a new class -- but today was a toll of victory. A signal to those in-the-know that their freedom was soon at hand.

The door in the rear began to open.

Nicholas found himself holding his breath as the familiar human figure became present in the doorway. Lancer strode purposefully to the threshold, paused a moment to gaze upon the class, then lifted a foot and - at long last - stepped into the classroom.

The net, which before had been suspended surreptitiously from the ceiling, plummeted down and knocked Lancer to the floor.

"_Sleepy Hollow_, what is the meaning of this?!" Lancer demanded.

Keston Pryce rose from his seat and stepped forward. "It's quite simple, Mr. _Luncher,_" he mispronounced deliberately, striding toward the front of the room in time to miss the corrective letters. "This class is now under the control of the Clan of Evil. From this point on, _you_ will do what _we_ want, instead of us doing what you want."

"Well, that does seem a problem," Lancer grumbled. "Were this room not fully outfitted with _Fenton security cameras!_"

"You stupid, stupid man. Do you not think we took the liberty of disabling those cameras before we put our plan into action?"

"Really? You disabled all of them?"

"Of _course_ we did."

"Did you get the one on the hatrack?"

"Yes."

"What about under the desk?"

"Of course."

"And the Security Scanners built into your desks?"

"We did," Keston responded.

"And the cameras in the rear wall..."

"Gone."

"The blackboard sensor?"

"_Mr._ Lancer," said Keston slowly, "it would appear that you are entirely out of luck."

"Well, then," said Lancer, "did you also disable the hidden camera in my tie clip?"

A look of surprise crossed Keston's face just as an alarm sounded. The doors slammed shut, and a moment later Fatso, Stinky and Stretch dropped from the ceiling, fully armed and grinning sardonically.

Within a moment, the demon-halfa had regained his composure. "Don't move," he ordered the ghosts.

"And why not?" Stretch demanded.

"Because this room is filled with bombs," Pryce announced.

There was a collective gasp.

"If any of you so much as points a gun at me, I will give the signal, and one of our cleverly-hidden Clan of Evil members will detonate those bombs. The entire class will be destroyed."

The ghosts frowned, then Stretch spoke again. "Silly child. This room is full of ghosts, half-ghosts and other miscellaneous superpowers who could quite easily phase straight through whatever explosions may occur. What makes you think a set of _bombs_ would be a threat?"

"Well," Keston answered evenly, "the very _human _Mr. Lancer would be in a world of trouble."


	15. Ignition & Invasion

Having realized a moment ago that the previous version of this chapter sucked utterly, I rewrote it. Less stalling and more plot advancement this time.

Chapter 15: Ignition & Invasion

"Hmm," Lancer hmm'ed. "You're right. Well, you would be, anyway..." he reached over and pressed a button on his watch, "if it weren't for Jack Fenton's Portable Foldaway Anti-Ghost Armor."

Said armor immediately sprung out of Lancer's wristwatch, covering him in a way that looked remarkably effective for deflecting explosions. A moment later, several spinning blades also burst from that area, slicing a large hole into the net.

"Now," said Mr. Lancer calmly, "if you set off those bombs, the only thing you're going to accomplish is a temporary destruction of this room."

Keston scowled and bit his lip. Nicholas, being well-versed in the Clan of Evil's plans, realized that they had none for such an occurence.

"And by the way," Lancer added, "you and all of your friends have detention, starting today."

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Nicholas, his mind full of unsightly and rather uncharacteristic curses, grumbled quietly to himself as he scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

Samuel winced. "You know, that's rather uncomfortable."

"Oh, shut up," Nicholas snapped. "I don't see you doing anything here."

"I'm cleaning up the leftovers, remember?"

"I _still _say that sitting around slurping scrambled eggs-and-brains is NOT the same as cleaning."

"I gather that you've never tried to eat cooked brains."

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "_No._ That's the second most disgusting thing to _raw_ brains."

Samuel frowned, possibly defying a known law of physics as he did so. "Mostly I meant that they were hard to chew without teeth."

The ghost grimaced. "If I ever figure out what Ophelia sees in you-"

Samuel choked.

"What?"

"_Ophelia? _ You can't be - you _are_ serious. That is..._ wrong._"

"You're telling me."

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Emberlynn sighed. Saturday was here. Nothing but rest, relaxation, and... homework.

"James, how do you _do_ this?" Emberlynn whined.

Her bunkmate shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I always kind of liked Jack Fenton."

"You're _weird._"

"Hey, Jim, no fraternizing with the weirdo," Ian ordered.

"_Hey!_ You're no better, Mr. Hair-Is-Going-White-Way-Too-Early!"

"My hair is _not_ going white," Ian grumped. "Is it? Hey, Jim, is my hair going white?"

"Beats me," James answered. "I have rotted my brain through association with the weirdo. I couldn't tell."

"_James!_" Emberlynn complained.

"Just kidding, Emby."

"_Emberlynn._"

"No, his hair is _not_ turning white," said Weasel. "It only does that in his ghost form."

"Hmm," Ian remarked. "Hey, when I go ghost, does that make me _dead?_"

She rolled her eyes. "If you weren't already, I wouldn't worry about it."

"Hey," said James, changing the subject, "have you guys noticed anything weird about the staff? I mean, today."

"No," Emberlynn answered. "I've been busy trying to get my homework done."

"No, seriously. I mean, I haven't seen any of them at all in the habitat ring or outside. It's like they're all gone."

"Well," said Winifred, "the whole Clan of Evil has detention. That's _got_ to work into it."

"No, I think it's something worse."

"There's worse than detention?"

"I don't know. Hey, Ian, want to break into the staff section and find out?"

"No," Ian answered flatly. "I don't care _what_ they might be doing."

"Ditto," said Emberlynn. "I am NEVER going into the staff section again. No matter WHAT you pay me."

"Suit yourself."

That finished, Emberlynn turned back to her homework, biting her lip in the start of concentration. Despite continual effort, she still couldn't remember anything good about Jack Fenton. _Argh! If I'd only thought to bring some Danny Phantom DVD's..._

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"Hey," said Samuel, "guess we're done."

Nicholas nodded weakly. "I _see_ that. No thanks to you."

"Well, I'm out of here. Good luck with your homework."

"Yeah. Thanks. Whatever."

Nicholas rolled his eyes as Samuel disappeared from the kitchen. _Good luck, my random undesirable body part. Sick. Twisted. Detention-Giving. Staff._ Sighing, he plunked to the floor, realizing with utter despair that he had only half a day left to get started... and detention again on Sunday, so _another_ half a day would be lost from his schedule.

Wait... why did he even _care_ about his homework? These staff were just sick, sick people. They'd dragged him off to this stupid school over a dumb story he'd written so they could cram their dogma down his throat, and if they really expected him to get his homework done they would have given him the time to do it. He didn't want to be here; he certainly hadn't asked. If he didn't have enough time to get his homework done, it was _their_ fault.

Nicholas grinned, feeling better - and considerably more evil - already. Homework could wait. He had a flame-point Siamese to cuddle.

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_Okay..._

_Jack cares about his family._

_Some of his stuff works._

_Half of his DNA went to making Danny._

_Ugh..._

"I am _never_ going to get this done!" Emberlynn exclaimed, dropping her head on the paper. "Never never _never!_"

"Maybe you should go to the library," someone suggested. "They store episode summaries in the archive there."

Emberlynn blinked.

"Really?" she shrieked. "Why didn't you _say_ so?!"

"I didn't have a chance," he answered.

Excited, the halfa gathered up her paper and turned toward the voice -- only to find that there was nothing there.

In fact, there wasn't anyone in the room at all.

"Funny, Ian," she grumped. "You can all come out now."

A figure materialized -- but it looked very little like Ian. "Mr. Masters is still at dinner with his friends," he informed her. "You and I are the only ones here?"

She frowned. "Who are _you?_"

"No one of consequence. Know only that I am here to ensure that you get your homework done in time. I will gladly escort you to the archives, if you wish."

"Hmm... okay."

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Meanwhile, the staff was having their own sort of quandary. While manning the security cameras, Skulker had noticed something quite disturbing -- a group of men attempting to force their way through the front gate.

The first person he called was the Assistant Headmistress. "Are they supposed to be here?" he asked.

Miss Morgan shook her head. "I don't think so. Zoom in."

Skulker pressed a button, and the camera focused more closely on the group. There were four of them, all wearing overalls and an inordinate amount of heavy-looking equipment. They also wore an insignia, but it was impossible to recognize from the screen.

"Tucker!" Miss Morgan shouted.

It took little time for the nerd to appear in the room. "Yeah?"

"Do _you_ know these guys?"

Tucker squinted at the screen. "Uh, nope."

"I was afraid of that."

"What?"

Quite suddenly, one of the men managed to jar the gate open.

Miss Morgan frowned in the worst way possible. "Go to red alert immediately. Order all students to the nearest safe areas. We've been invaded by the Ghostbusters."

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"Red alert?" Emberlynn wondered as she trod through the library. "What-"

"They're being invaded," her companion answered. "Don't worry about it. We're almost to the archive; it'll be safe in there." Without further ado, he tugged her gently past the rows of regular books and into a somewhat dank and decidedly musty corner, where the shelves were notably and sadistically taller than anywhere else.

"Hmm," said Emberlynn, nodding. "How come nobody told me about this?"

"I suppose they expect you to take the initiative. I've found some students need a little... encouragement, however."

"That sucks," she grumped, looking over the rows of books. "You can't expect a girl to look for something if she doesn't know there is one!"

"You'll find the summaries in this section," the figure said, pointing to a row of pale green spines.

"Oh, okay. Thanks. Who are you, anyway?"

He coughed. "Eh, nobody. Consider me the ghost of the library."

"Good enough."

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!BOOM!

"Ooh, that was a _good_ one, Winston. Next time, care to _not_ blow the doors off?"

The addressed man grinned. "Not on your life. I _live_ for this."

Stantz, meanwhile, was busy surveying the area. "Looks pretty normal to me," he remarked.

"Well, of course it _does,_" Venkman responded. "Until the specters start flying out of the scaffolding with the intent to kill you."

"I'm with Ray," Spangler remarked. "Normally you find some kind of ectoplasmic residue. This place looks clean."

"Only if the ghosts have been here more than three months," Stantz corrected. "Still, you'd think we'd find some... wreckage or something."

"Well," said Venkman, "y'think maybe the good stuff is _inside?_" He gestured to the house interior. "Onward."

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"All right, men, you know your business," Miss Morgan barked. "These invaders are convinced we're harboring a large amount of ghosts, and they won't be dissuaded through speech alone. Are the students rounded up?"

Skulker nodded, and cackled. "I made sure of it."

The Assistant Headmistress raised an eyebrow. "Did anyone get _hurt?_"

He scowled. "No."

"Good. Don't worry, dear, you can take out all your violent urges on the invaders. Dash, Tucker, got the iguanas?"

"Yes, sir," Tucker answered, holding out a rolled-up Vald. "Armed and ready."

Dash chuckled evilly.

"Good. You have the Great Hall. Skulker, see if you can get rid of them first. Danny, Vlad, Desiree, back him up. Jazz, keep the Box Ghost under control. Walker..."

The ghost cackled.

"Take the Lunch Lady and make sure the students stay put. Maddie, keep Jack out of the way unless we _really_ need him."

"Right-o, sir!" Mr. Fenton exclaimed, saluting cheerfully.

"Okay, move out."

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foom

"Frowr..."

yoink

"Raaoo..."

BOOM

"Nicholas, will you stop that?" snapped Hellfire's voice from the top bunk.

"_That_ happened outside," Nicholas responded, watching the Siamese chase his ignited finger. "We're on 'Red Alert' at the moment. Remember?"

"I thought you were teasing your cat again."

Nicholas wiggled his finger. "_Teasing_. Not 'setting on fire'."

"Mrao."

"Right, okay. Never mind... I might have you set this homework on fire, though.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Yes, I _know._" He poked at the cat.

"Aaeeiioouu..."

A FOOM sounded from nearby.

"Wowbagger!" Hellfire hollered.

Wowbagger's sheepish head popped out through the bathroom doorway. "Sorry, guys," he said. "Looks like a 'no' on the moonshine. And we've gotta replace a toilet now."

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As the Ghostbusters prepared to step inside, a large BOOM sounded, and they found themselves face-to-face with... well, a ghost.

They were fairly _sure_ it was a ghost, anyway. It might have just been a large man in armor.

"BWAHAHAHA!" the figure bellowed. "I, Skulker, shall prevent the likes of you from infiltrating our sanctum! Begone, and I may spare you the loss of your hides!"

"See?" said Venkman. "Ghosts _inside._ Just like I said." Then, setting the incorrigible example for the rest of his team, he whipped out some kind of high-tech anti-ghost weapon and pointed it at Skulker. "Make us."

Skulker nodded and pulled out his own weapon, which happened to be considerably larger than Venkman's. "As you wish."

Steeling themselves, the rest of the team pulled out their weapons, but before they could get a shot off Skulker began firing. In short order, four men in overalls had taken off across the yard, flanked by large plasma bullets. They piled into their van and, in the grand manner of extremely brave men, drove away rapidly.

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Miss Morgan frowned. "That was fast. Where are they going?"

"To get reinforcements, most likely," Vlad answered. "I would suspect we haven't seen the last of them."

"Well... at least they're gone. Cancel Red Alert and inform everyone that they can go about their business."

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On Sunday morning, Emberlynn found herself awakening... in a chair.

It took her only a brief moment to remember what she was doing there, then she remembered her homework. _Oh, yeah..._ she'd followed that mysterious figure into the library, and he'd showed her where the episode summaries were stored.

And then he'd stayed...

Emberlynn sighed a bit, closing her eyes in some glee. She didn't remember who the guy was, but he'd sat there on the corner of the desk, pointing out good episodes and helping her to outline what she needed to assemble a believable essay. Mmm, he was _smart._ No, _brilliant._ And so... wait, _was_ he good-looking?

Come to think of it, she couldn't remember what his face looked like.

Emberlynn sighed again. Not only was he a brilliant, nice guy, but he was a brilliant, nice _mysterious_ guy. No, it didn't get any better than that.

"Wait 'til I tell Weasel that _I_ got a visit from the Angel of Homework..."

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"Don't be stupid," Starving Weasel grumped, heading down the hall on the way to breakfast. "There's no such thing as the Angel of Homework. It was probably some ghost messing with your head."

"But he was so _smart._" Emberlynn swallowed a bite of celery toast. "How many ultra-smart students do _you_ know?"

"Could've been Technus."

"No _way,_" she swooned. "His voice was so _dreamy._"

The conversation was immediately halted by their arrival to the dining hall -- or rather, by the sight that met

their eyes once inside.

"Good morning, little girls," greeted Jorgen von Strangle. "Up and at them, eh?"

Horrified, Emberlynn pushed past the overgrown fairy into the mess proper -- and from there, it didn't get any better. The Danny Phantom characters were gone, and in their places were the main cast from _The Fairly Oddparents._

"Attention, students!" Miss Morgan shouted. "Now that you've taken notice of our guests, I would like to officially welcome you to to this Fanfiction University's FOP-DP Week!"

Smiling cheerfully, Jorgen stomped over to the table and took his place at Dash's usual seat.

Emberlynn hung her head and groaned. "I am SO going to fail."


	16. Failure & Fairies

I apologize for making everyone wait this long for the next chapter -- unfortunately, as soon as the holiday rush wound down I found myself with the flu, so I've just been trying to eke out material as much as I can while doing continual research on the most recent subject. Hopefully the next chapter will contain more enlightening stuff.

(Note: it may be noticed that the _Crockerology_ class is presented in a format similar to nillia's _Character Is_ contest format on deviantART. This just happened to be the easiest way to present this particular information, and I mean in no way to infringe on nillia's creativity.)

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Chapter 16: Failure & Fairies

"In a spur-of-the-moment consideration," said Miss Morgan, "I've decided to set aside this week for you to learn about Danny Phantom and Fairly OddParents crossover fiction. Since our guest teachers aren't familiar with your regular subjects and assignments, we'll start immediately with your new subjects on Monday. You have until classes begin to finish your homework and turn it in; it will be graded once your regular teachers have returned from their vacation."

"Well, they're not getting _mine,_" Nicholas scowled. "I'm _really_ fed up with these sadistic creeps. Do you even _know_ anyone who writes that kind of shmear?"

Lina Scorsese blushed deeply. "I did."

"Also due to this time constraint," Miss Morgan continued, "all assighments you recieve this week will be due by Saturday morning in order for our guests to have proper time to grade them before they leave. I would apologize for the time constraints, but I believe they will be good for all of you. Perhaps you won't even have time to stampede Mr. Crocker."

"_Ew_," said Nicholas, making a face.

Lina blushed deeply.

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"Hey," said Underwear Eater, "maybe your Angel of Homework'll help."

"It doesn't matter. I have NEVER done this much homework at once. I'm going to die!"

"If you're dead, does that mean it'll be okay for you to date ghosts?" James wanted to know.

"I wouldn't date you, anyway. You're a weirdo."

"Almost as weird as that guy you took to the Dance of Unnecessary Circumstance," Ian heckled.

"I don't even want to _talk_ about that. Besides, _he_ took _me._"

"Your temporary schedules have been fowarded to your quarters," Miss Morgan interjected. "You are still expected to be on time for each class. That is all, unless someone can think of something else I need to mention."

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Chapter 16: Failure & Fairies

Emberlynn stayed up late that night.

Her homework wasn't doing too badly yet; she'd managed to get through most of her topics without nodding off. The one and only mistake she could think of having made was the choice to save Friday's homework for last -- and now, the fifty-page assignment ("_In_ your notebooks, all lines occupied") which she had received from Mr. Lancer loomed ahead of her like a long, paved road without a car.

"Who _cares_ what the difference between Brahmans and Plebs?" she ranted. "I learned this stuff _years_ ago!"

"But you don't remember it," a voice remarked.

Emberlynn glanced up at the speaker, her heart skipping a beat when she saw who it was -- her so-dubbed "Angel of Homework".

"I don't _need_ to remember," she explained. "That's why I learned it in middle school -- it's not actually important."

"It's important to Mr. Lancer," the figure said with a shrug. "I suppose he wants you to retain your education."

"Riiiight, so I don't grow up to be a complete moron. Not knowing history isn't going to make me stupid -- doing this stinking homework _is._"

"It might help if you had some reference."

"Ex_act_ly!"

The figure - whose face she still couldn't make out - sat down on the edge of the bed. "Let's start with the Brahmans. What do you remember about them?"

"Uh... they were Indian."

He nodded. "Which part of India?"

"I don't remember."

"Do you remember their culture?"

"Er... A-R-something."

"Well, you're off to a good start already."

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Monday morning, Nicholas' first class was still _How To Be A Good Antagonist Without Powers_ -- but today, Mr. Crocker and Vicky were officiating.

"Listen up, you little twerps," Vicky announced, seemingly unaware that many of the students were older than she was. "Today you are going to do what _WE_ tell you to do!"

A Very Stupid Guy, sensing his moment to stand up without looking like a complete dork, was the first to contest this claim. "Really?" he asked. "What d'you think you're going to do?"

Mr. Crocker blinked.

His eye twitched.

"FAIRY!!!" he exclaimed at last, pointing an over-excited finger at Guy. "Fairyfairyfairy! Haahaa! I was right! FAIRIES EXIST!"

Guy frowned.

"It's okay, Mr. Crocker," Vicky whispered. "He only looks like a fairy."

"...really?" Crocker asked.

"NO!" she crowed. "But it doesn't matter! 'Cause he's not a godparent!"

"Then..." Crocker's eyebrow twitched. "FAIRIES!!!"

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Riiight. Focus, Mr. Crocker."

Crocker nodded, stood up a little straighter and adjusted his tie. "Right. Fo-cus. Sit down, Mr... um, Guy."

The fairy obliged.

"If you refuse to follow instructions, you will, of course, recieve an F. F, as in Failure -- or FAI-"

Vicky gave Mr. Crocker a stern thwack.

"Well, I'm sure you see the point."

Vicky sneered. "Now, the first thing we're going to do is set a few rules here, concerning the writing of crossovers." She picked up a stack of papers and began to shuffle through. "Let's see... random insertion of Cosmo and Wanda... Timmy as villain... geez, they never even finished this... oh, for Pete's sake!"

She slammed down the papers. "All right, let's start here. I have a 'fanfic'-" (accompanied by sarcastic quote-fingers) "-that has Cosmo and Wanda in it for no reason at all. And it's not even _about_ them. They're _tertiary characters!_ What's the point of that?" she demanded.

"Because Danny couldn't have done it all by himself," a student piped up.

"Wrong!" she exclaimed. "They were there to be cheap. I happen to know that Danny Fenton - aside from being the absolute CUTEST thing since Chip Skylark - is an incredibly resourceful boy. He could have done it! Anyway, this brings us to Rule Number One: If you don't _have_ to cross over to do your story, _don't_ cross over."

"Moving on to this next one," said Crocker, "we find a story that, on the surface, seems fairly original, though undeniably unpromising for many reasons that may be covered later."

"Looking _back,_ however..." Vicky continued, "we find _another_ 'fanfic'-"

"-which, I may add, was _much_ better-written-"

"-published nearly a year before, with the _exact same plot!_ Not just a similar concept, but the same exact premise and a nearly identical beginning."

"Hence," said Mr. Crocker, "we come to Rule Number 2: If you do feel the urge to write a 'fanfic', use your _own_ material."

"And if you _do_ come up with something new, it can never hurt to push that little SEARCH button and make sure no one beat you to it."

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Emberlynn's first class, on the other hand, was the sure-to-be-boring _Fairy Physiology._ The reason she decided it would be boring was because the Fairy Doctor was in charge, and since she had no idea who he was he obviously wasn't a developed character.

"Hello, everyone," greeted the doctor. "Welcome all to this class, yadda yadda yadda. Today we're going to be learning about the physiology of fairies, namely in the vein of how they differ from ghosts, how they are similar to ghosts, how they relate to ghosts, et cetera. Joining me is... nobody. I'm teaching this class all by myself. The good news is, it's the only class I'll ever have to teach!"

Several groans sounded from the class.

"Anyway..." The doctor poofed a drawing onto the blackboard. "_This_ is a fairy. _This_ is a Fagiggligland, which I'm sure you _all_ know, thanks to indiscriminate broadcasting of the fact. _This_ is the blood vessel system, which surprisingly connects to a perfectly ordinary heart, lungs, et cetera. _This_ is the brain, which normally controls bodily functions, though in cases such as Cosmo's they seem to be automated."

This provoked much laughter.

"_These_ are the wing muscles, which control the wings. They are entirely optional, as evidenced by fairies such as Jorgen von Strangle." He _poofed_ a quick drawing of Jorgen. "You will note their resemblance to staples. They are usually implanted along with the wings by means of a staple gun, just to keep things simple."

Someone raised their hand.

"Yes, Coosmo," the doctor acknowledged.

"That's not what they're for!" Coosmo exclaimed.

"And of course you _would_ know, being as how you're not a doctor and are, in fact, merely a devoted fan. Your protest is... shall we say, sustained."

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Later, at lunch, Emberlynn found herself with much to complain about to her bunkmates.

"This course is so _stupid,_" she declared. "I'm not learning anything. Why don't they just take the guys who write crossovers and teach them? They could give the rest of us a week off!"

"I dunno," said James. "If you think about it, it's the same as learning something like chemistry. If you ever decide to write a crossover, you should know the rules for doing it."

"Whose side _are_ you on?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "Not yours."

The conversation was interrupted when Crocker ran into the room, followed by a large flock of squealing girls, all of whom seemed intent on grabbing some body part or another. In sheer panic, he let out a scream and dove under the head table, much to the amusement of Timmy.

"Stop!" he screamed from somewhere behind a chair leg. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

"But, Denzel-poo!" one of them exclaimed.

"We LOVE you!" a few of the girls shouted.

"NOBODY loves me!" he shouted. "I just want to eat and give bad grades in peace!"

"Let me help!" a girl suggested. "I can write the most BEAUTIFUL F's!"

Before Crocker could respond, Miss Morgan rose from her seat and raised her bullhorn. "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

The girls froze.

"CODE NUMBER TWO: ATTRACTION IS ACCEPTABLE, LUST IS NOT!"

She paused for a moment and retrieved something from a pocket. "THIS IS A RESTRAINING ORDER. IT IS EQUIPPED WITH THE FENTON ANTI-FANGIRL SEAL. IF YOU ARE PRESENTED WITH THIS, YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF TRANSPORTED TO AN UNKNOWN LOCATION WHICH WILL DOUBTLESS BE VERY NASTY. DO YOU WANT THIS?"

The girls scattered.

"That's better," Miss Morgan said, and handed the restraining order to the petrified teacher. "Here you go. You need it worse than I do."

Since the event had fairly well concluded, Emberlynn gave a slight shudder and turned back to her food. "Crocker fans... _ew._"

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"Good afternoon, little students," said Jorgen, having assembled them all in the area normally reserved for _Fighting Ghosts_. "It is my deepest pleasure to introduce you to my favorite class in the whole world: Jorgen von Strangle's Grammatical Boot Camp!"

Nicholas suppressed a gulp.

"These are my assistants, Waker and Stulker," he said, motioning to a pair of rather large ghost iguanas. "They will take great pleasure in giving you pain until you all... how is it you say it... stop dead in your 'tracts'."

A Very Stupid Guy lost his composure and hit the ground.

"Very good. I like to see that my students are intimidated. Now get up, because we have the entire afternoon ahead of us and we will be WORKING."

The assembly seemed genuinely nervous now.

"All right, everyone, ABOUT-FACE!"

Several students stared at him quizzically.

"That means turn around!"

They did.

Where once had been empty space, Jorgen had set up a large obstacle course -- one which looked to be rather painful. In the center was an open field, whose purpose Nicholas could only hope to guess -- but which Jorgen was presently maneuvering to occupy by way of his jetpack.

"This is our training ground. I will now attempt to teach you grammar and other thing such as basic spelling. The worse you do, the more pain I will inflict. But before we begin, I would like to introduce you to someone."

He gestured, and presently a female student stepped into the area.

Jorgen grinned. "This is I'm Typing, Genius, AKA the PHSYCHOTIC GRAMMAR NAZI. I understand she is very smart -- she found plenty of grammar mistakes in the entrance form. So, Typing, could you tell us now... what does 'phsychotic' mean?"

"It means _crazy_," she answered, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm. That's strange. I thought the word was 'psychotic'. I'd better tell Miss Morgan about this. And... um, could you also tell me, who is 'Proffessor Snap'?"

She stared at him. "Are you && kidding?"

"I never kid while working! Drop and give me two hundred!"

"No way!"

He frowned. "I don't think you understand what happens here. YOU do what I say. You DON'T do it, or don't do it right, I give you PAIN." He pulled out his magic stick and pointed it at the student. "DROP AND GIVE ME TWO HUNDRED!"

Nicholas shuddered.

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Jorgen was far from done with the Grammar Nazi. Emberlynn was forced to look on in horror as he put her through exercise after exercise, all of which seemed to corrolate to something she had said on her entrance form. (He'd asked her to define 'grammar' at one point; when she started to say something about spelling she'd ended up doing chin-ups.) By the time he was done, she looked like she was ready to fall flat and die.

"Now," said Jorgen, "I trust you have all learned several important lessons today. Your assignment is to list every mistake you have seen here, the correct way of fixing that mistake, and write a sentence using each piece of text the way it ought to be. If you fail, I will turn you over to the iguanas."

Waker flexed his un-iguanalike biceps.

"That will be all for today."

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Tuesday brought about, in the most ubiquitous manner possible for a class, _Being Corporate Ain't Easy,_ with the Head Pixie and Sanderson. The class itself was less interesting; mainly, they droned on for hours about the differences between Corporate and Evil and all the extremely important reasons why pixies were not Evil.

The next class - _Crockerology 101_ - was more interesting. Timmy was in charge, and he was taking his job of teaching very seriously.

"This," he said, sketching a Crocker on the chalkboard, "is Mr. Crocker. Even though he is right about fairires, he's also crazy."

There was a pause; evidently he was allowing this profound new information to sink in.

"He's also a genius."

"I KNOOOW!" a girl squealed.

"He is at least forty-five years old."

One of the students swooned; the girl next to her, in contrast, began to puke.

"He is not sexy." For illustration, he did a sketch of Crocker's body shape. "He is not going to be UN-crazy without serious therapy."

Another pause.

"Mr. Crocker is totally obsessed with fairy godparents. Especially mine. He isn't interested in love, romance, or even talking to other people unless school is involved. And I REALLY doubt he wants to talk to you."

"Bu-bu-bu-but I'm so SMAAAART!" the squealing student exclaimed, rising from her chair. "He LOOOOVES smart people!"

"Actually," said Timmy, "what he _really_ enjoys is making fun of the stupid ones."

"Oh, you're _mean!_" she exclaimed, and flumped back into her seat with a considerable huff.

Nicholas allowed himself a quiet cackle.

"So is Crocker," Timmy pointed out. "And _that's_ just the basics. Wait until we get into the really deep stuff."


	17. Cards & Clark

My sincere apologies for being late, but I had a terrible case of writer's block and finally had to force my way out of it. Anywhere, here it is, with a few notes before we begin.

I own none of the songs used in this chapter.

The character of Adam West is not intended to be the real actor Adam West; rather, he is the fictional (and marginally insane) character from the Fairly Odd Parents cartoon. Also note that the character of KatyaChekov belongs to Miri P., and I will probably include her in a larger way later, in case Miri was concerned.

(Edit -- accidentally referred to Pody as N. Johnson, another submitter of character. That mistake has been corrected.)

I do not own Adam West or KatyaChekov, nor do I own Phil Diffy, Edward Elric, Danny Phantom, Marco, Clark Kent, Inu-Yasha or the Opera Ghost. However, I did make up _Kaado no Tsuki_, so refrain from searching for it in stores.

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Chapter 17: Cards & Clark

For Tuesday's _Grammar Boot Camp_, they had homophone drills -- the loud recitation of words in time with military-grade marching.

It was miserable. There had been another rainstorm, so not only was the entire field soaked and muddy but a continual freezing-cold drizzle ensured that Emberlynn was utterly miserable even before she fell down for the first time.

"_There_ is sure a lot of mud out there!" Jorgen bellowed.

"T-H-E-R-E!" the students responded.

"Anyone who walks through it gets it all over _their_ pants!"

"T-H-E-I-R!"

"If there's anyone out in this weather, I bet _they're_ really miserable!"

"T-H-E-Y-'-R-E!"

"_Your_ uniforms are totally soaked!"

"Y-O-U-R!"

"And _you're_ probably getting short of breath!"

"Y-O-U-'-R-E!"

"I bet your _two_ little footies are very cold!"

"T-W-O!"

"And you would very much like _to_ go back inside and rest!"

"T-O!"

"_Too_ bad for you!"

"T-O-O!"

Had she the breath to do so, Emberlynn would have groaned. Drills were bad enough, but where Jorgen was concerned, they just weren't complete until the regiment had been thoroughly mocked.

"We will not be _fazed_ by the weather!"

"P-H-A-S-E-D!"

"Company HALT!"

Emberlynn froze. The class fell silent.

Somewhere, a bird chirped.

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"Repeat after me! F-A-Z-E-D!" Jorgen shouted.

"F-A-Z-E-D!" came the reply.

"WORK those biceps! F-A-Z-E-D!"

Nicholas grumbled to himself. It wasn't _his_ fault nobody else could spell; _he_ had certainly gotten it right. Not that Jorgen cared; to his pea-sized mind, an individual student was indistinguishable from the whole, and the whole was now assigned to push-ups - in the rain and mud - as they repeated the misspelled word.

Nicholas was so distracted by his complaining that he neglected to notice he had missed one of the call-outs -- until Jorgen's shiny black boots thudded down in front of his face.

He took it all back. The individual was indistinguishable as long as it was convenient.

"Is there _some kind of problem,_ Diablo?" Jorgen asked.

Nicholas stopped working and rose from the ground, floating up to Jorgen's eye level. "As a matter of fact, there _is_ some kind of problem."

"_Yeah?_"

"_I_ am not ONE of these IMBECILES!" Nicholas exploded. "I did not MAKE these mistakes. MAYBE I'm not an expert in the realm of fanfiction, but one thing I can most certainly do is spell properly."

"Really?" Jorgen queried, raising one black eyebrow.

"_Really,_" said Nicholas.

Jorgen smiled broadly and nodded. "Then I'm sure you have never met..." He whistled. "Jasmin!"

A ghost iguana materialized just off Jorgen's right shoulder.

"Little Jasmin here is an honorary character from the fanfiction 'Diablo'. That's a _Danny Phantom_ fanfiction, by the way. I believe you wrote it."

Nicholas stared at the purple-eyed iguana, who stared back much as a cow greets an oncoming train.

"Jasmin, be a good girl and help Diablo with his push-ups, would you? I have other students to lay the pain into."

With that, the inflated drill sergeant turned around and once again bellowed: "F-A-Z-E-D!"

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When Nicholas climbed out of bed Wednesday morning, he could find not a single identifiable inch of his ghostly body that didn't hurt.

And to his disgust, the bane of his discomfort - Jasmin - was sitting on the end of his bunk, watching him with the same blank expression she had worn yesterday.

_Stupid iguana,_ he thought. And then, remembering that he had been imbued with all manner of marvelous pyrokinesis, threw a fireball at it.

The iguana disappeared with a frightened - and rather irritated - squeak. Feeling better, at least mentally, Nicholas drifted out to the hallway, neglecting to notice that he was still wearing his dinosaur pajamas.

Which were the least of his worries upon his reaching the dining hall.

The area was in complete upheaval. Students everywhere were floating around, running in circles, and crouching behind overturned tables, using either their powers or some peculiar items he'd never seen before. Even the staff - who usually ignored such things in relative peace - were caught up in it; Miss Morgan in particular was blinking from place to place trying to grab the array of strange guns from as many students as possible. The air was filled with the sound of explosions, _zoops_, _flash_es and... crying babies?

One of the students was enveloped by a row of glowing green rings, and shrunk to the floor, joining the mass of upset toddlers in the "nerfed" category, and the teenager who was apparently responsible gave a wicked laugh. Her joy was short-lived, though, when Morgan blinked in behind her and wrested away a small metallic gun.

"Catch, Diffy!" she shouted, and tossed the objects into the waiting hands of a dark-haired teenager on the balcony. Rather than using the gun, much to Nicholas' surprise, the boy tucked it safely down his pants before reaching out to catch a larger weapon dropped moments ago by Ed.

Nicholas didn't wait to see if he could fit _that_ down his pants, chiefly because he was busy phasing through someone's Blades of Blood.

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Emberlynn was already in the thick of the fight and holding her own, with more than just her ghost powers -- she'd managed to acquire an experimental Detention Ray, and was rapidly growing to love it as she trapped more and more of her "fellow" students inside _Kaado no Tsuki_ gamepieces. A couple of staff members had tried to grab her weapon, but with a good sense of presence and some fancy maneuvering, Samuel the Flayer now came with an overall Power stat of 4500 -- much more impressive than any of the students she'd zotted thus far.

Maybe later she'd ask someone how the game was played.

Another person appeared to her side -- but when she turned it was just Winifred, slipping in behind the table.

"Mind if I hide here?" the girl asked.

_Let's see... female, in my dorm. Not enemy._ "Sure," she answered firing an ectoplasmic blast at an errant human (who dropped his raygun and fell dramatically off the stairs, landing in someone's gook blob).

"What's that you got there?" Winifred asked.

"Shut up or go away," Emberlynn responded, dodging someone's Boy/Girl ray.

Winifred nodded, then placed a hand to her temple. Moments later, a large glob of cheese plopped onto a student who had gotten a bit too close.

Maybe she _wasn't_ a halfa.

"Getting too dangerous here," Emberlynn remarked, and flew up. "Gotta go!" On her way through the air, she fired another shot -- and discovered that James LeTourneau had an overall Power of 3000. Not bad at all.

His brother hove into view, hanging upside-down in front of the teen. "You're gonna pay for that, Emby!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah?" she demanded raising her gun.

"Yeah," he responded, pulling out a weapon of his own.

The two fired.

A few seconds later, Miss Morgan retrieved the Detention Ray and DNA Scrambler from the floor. "Detention for both of you," she informed them, and glanced at the Emberlynn card. Overall Power 1100; _not great, but pretty good cannon fodder_.

"Kupo," Ian protested.

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Once the mess had been straightened out, and all students and staff members returned to their former states (well, most of them; they'd had to make some guesswork with Ian Masters' collection of Moogles), Miss Morgan had a serious announcement to make.

"ATTENTION, STUDENTS!" she exclaimed. "SINCE THE SKIRMISH YOU JUST WITNESSED CONSUMED THE ENTIRETY OF YOUR REGULAR BREAKFAST TIME, WE HAVE DECIDED-"

Several of them gazed hopefully.

"-NOT TO INTERRUPT OUR REGULAR SCHEDULE. YOU WILL NOW PROCEED TO CLASSES AS PLANNED. ALSO, ANY OF YOU WHO WERE INVOLVED IN THIS EVENT - I.E., ALL OF YOU, HAVE DETENTION THE ENTIRE WEEKEND."

The students began the Collective Teenage Groan.

"AND FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO STARTED THE INCIDENT, YOU ARE TO BE MADE AWARE THAT MR. DIFFY IS HERE FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES, NOT YOUR SNOGGING PLEASURE. THAT IS ALL."

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Feeling extremely miserable and a bit silly, Emberlynn nonetheless trudged to her next class, _Assumptions Are What You Make Up._

She didn't recognize the teacher, and wondered briefly if there had been some kind of mix-up, when another student - mouth agape and eyes full of hearts - demanded "GAH!?"

The teacher - a brown-haired teenage boy in baggy blue jeans and a pink T-shirt - glowered at the student. "No, silly," he said. "I'm Timmy. Gah isn't even _REAL._" He gestured to illustrate.

"You're not Timmy," a boy remarked, setting into his seat with more than a bit of attitude. "He's a little boy."

"And that," said Inexplicably Fourteen-Year-Old Timmy, "is the subject of this class. Because you just assumed something. Don't argue with me."

The student shut his mouth.

"It's pretty common," Timmy admitted. "Everyone thinks that because Danny is fourteen in his cartoon _and_ in the 'fic, I should be the same age in the 'fic as in _my_ cartoon, too.

"There's no rule that says my cartoon runs on the same time frame as Danny's. I could be older, younger, or the exact same age! And if that's not interesting to you, remember, I keep my fairy godparents until I'm eighteen."

"This is stupid," a student grumbled, apparently too worn-down by hunger for her common sense to hold. "We can write you as old as we want. It's not like that makes it bad fanfiction."

"Naw," he said. "It just makes it-" He started counting on his fingers. "Dull, repetitive, predictable, and limited. Geez, I've been baby-sat by Danny twice already. Maybe I'd like to just hang out like normal teenagers for once.

"Or kids," he added. "Who's to say Danny can't be a kid when we meet? Sure, no ghost powers, but think of the trouble we could get into!"

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Though he hadn't expected to see him there, Nicholas couldn't say he was especially impressed by the appearance of Danny Phantom in _Mass Crossovers Give Us Headaches._ It seemed others had been, though, as Phil Diffy was currently trying to revive the limp form of KatyaChekov, and several other females were half-flopped on their desks, drool trailing from their mouths as they attempted to stay conscious.

Once the student had been revived and sent back to her seat, Phil stepped to the side as Adam West - cat costume and all - took his place near the blackboard. Ed Elric - dressed in _Phantom of the Opera_ regalia for reasons Nicholas couldn't possibly guess - sat on the desk, while an unidentifiable dark-tinted kid stood in the corner humming some strange showtune melange.

"Attention," said Adam, drawing focus back to himself. "This class is about - yes, you probably guessed it - Mass Crossovers. And the headaches people get from them. Except me, of course. Cats don't get headaches, as you might already know..."

Edward coughed.

"Right, right. Anyway, _these_ are our guest teachers! Phil Diffy, Danny Phantom, Edward Erik - er, Elric - and Marco..." He frowned. "Marco..."

"Just Marco," the kid said.

"Marco," Adam confirmed. "So, citizens, do your heads hurt yet?"

Several students offered a _duh_-toned negative.

"Mine does," said James LeTourneau. "Can I get an aspirin?"

Adam looked at Phil. "Can he?"

Phil shook his head. "Not until after class."

He nodded and turned back to James. "Sorry, but you're going to have to wait until class is over."

"C'mon," urged Marco. "Let's get this going."

Adam smiled broadly. "Fear not, Marco, for we are already on our way to Phase 2: Explaining Things!"

"What a plan you got there," the boy quipped.

"Right, of course it is. Anyway... Diffy, looks like you're up!"

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"Then there's the idea that a Danny Phantom and Fairly Odd Parents crossover has to be about me and Danny getting together. No, I don't mean it like that," he amended, seeing the strange looks on some of the girls' faces. "I mean, I don't really have to be in the 'fic for it to be a crossover. What if it was about... Crocker trying to catch Danny? Naw, scrap that. Maybe it's about Vlad Masters reading bedtime stories to under-privledged dolphins, or Crocker swapping notes with Mr. Lancer, or Danny and Tucker joining the Squirrelly Scouts! That'd be pretty funny."

The students stared at him boredly, a few drooling in an entirely bored manner.

"Or Danny getting trapped in the Fairy World and having to survive for days on end? That'd be pretty cool. Or the time Jorgen had to spend a week in a Ghost Zone POW camp... or maybe not. Or MAYBE you could make Danny the star of one of Jorgen's bedtime stories! That'd be REALLY awesome!"

Somewhere in the rear, someone snored.

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"Nobody's saying that crossovers are _bad,_" said Phil. "But there are just some crossovers that shouldn't be done, like..."

_Who d'you think you're kiddin'_

_He's the Earth and Heaven to you_

_Try and keep it hidden_

_Honey, we can see right through you_

He blinked. "Like..."

_Loathing_

_Unadulterated loathing_

_For your face_

_-Your voice_

_-Your clothing_

_Let's just say_

_I loathe it all_

"The one with no paragraphs..."

_Now I know that life can take you by surprise_

_And sweep you off your feet_

_Did this happen to us_

_Or are we just dreaming?_

_Dreaming..._

"The one where they send Peter Parker to Massachusetts and he ends up in Michigan..."

_What will become of my dear friend_

_Where will his actions lead us then?_

_Although I'd like to join the crowd_

_In their enthusiastic cloud_

_Try as I may, it doesn't last_

"Just so he can be in the same place as Danny. Seriously..."

_See that pretty girl in the mirror there_

_Who could that attractive girl be?_

_Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile_

_Such a pretty MEEEEE_

"Marco, will you shut off the stereo!" Phil snapped.

"Hey, man," said Marco, "I'm making _crossovers_ here."

Edward groaned. "That's not a crossover!"

Adam grinned questioningly at the students.

"Yes," came a sheepish reply, "I have a headache now."

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"Waaiiit... what if Sam and Tootie switched bodies?" Timmy rattled. "That'd be great! Or maybe Tootie and Danny are cousins. Think about it! Jazz Vicky, Danny Tootie. They've practically got the same genes! What if Danny joined forces with the Crimson Chin? What if Jorgen joined forces with Skulker? What if Cosmo and Wanda traded places with Tucker and Sam? What if the Ghost Zone was destroyed and they had to move into Fairy World? Or the other way around? Maybe Crocker gets his Fairy Portal to link up with the Fenton Ghost Portal and he ends up in the basement!"

"Does he ever breathe?" Emberlynn asked Ian.

"Haven't seen it yet," he whispered back.

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"Thank you so _much_ for that effective demonstration, Marco!" exclaimed Adam. "I believe we're all feeling very educated as to what makes a very bad crossover. Moving on, we have... wait a minute."

He stared closer at the papers on the desk.

"I think we're missing someone here..."

As if on cue, there was a brief reddish wind, followed by the appearance of a tall and tired-looking dark-haired man in an old-fashioned Japanese outfit.

"There you are, Mr. Kent. Where were you? These young people need educated, you know!"

"Yeah," panted Clark, adjusting the fingernails on his Inu-Yasha costume. "Sorry about that. It was a long way from Kansas, and... well, you know how I can be with heights." He paused for a moment, breathing heavily. "Boy, are my legs tired."

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Author's Note: If you're interested in the piece of 'fic that spawned Marco's stereo tirade, be sure to check out _The Exciting Unexpected!_ by DxS Phreak. Yep, honey, we love your story sooo much that we mentioned it here.

Songs featured in this chapter are, in order:

_(I Won't Say) I'm In Love _(Disney's Hercules)

_What Is This Feeling/Loathing _(Wicked the Musical)

_Love Led Us Here_ (Muppet Treasure Island)

_Sally's Song_ (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

_I Feel Pretty_ (West Side Story)


	18. Rewrites & Rebels

This chapter is presented to you a month and ten days late after an incredible case of Information Block. It does, however, feature the character Erthiz, property of Andrew M., who coincidentally is the first person to read, understand and obey the fine print in the application. Congratulations, Andrew, you win a fantastic, bathroom-cleaning-free year at OFUAP.

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Chapter 18: Rewrites & Rebels

"Well, all right," said Adam. "I was just about to go to you, so good luck, citizen!"

"Thanks," Clark grinned, causing a few audience members to swoon. "So, I'm here to comment on Inu-Yasha crossovers, which from what I can tell are really popular in the Danny Phantom base. This probably isn't going to sound too bright; I didn't have a lot of time to look at Miss Morgan's notes.

"Anyway, I think we'll start with the formula. Miss Morgan calls this Formula Number One. Something happens to Danny that gets him to go to Japan, and something else happens to get him to stay there; in one, he loses his parents, in another one they disown him, and in the last one he ends up trapped in the Feudal Era because someone sealed the entrance. He meets Kagome, ends up going down the well, and ends up hanging out with everyone else."

"So then what happens?" someone asked.

"Dunno," Clark shrugged. "I don't think any of them were finished. Then there's Formula Number Two, where Danny finds out that he has inugami blood-"

KatyaChekov interrupted him. "I think you mean _youkai_ blood"

"Uh, no," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Actually, Miss Morgan had that in her notes; there's actually a difference between the two. I don't remember what it was, but she'd written 'INUGAMI' in really big bold letters with a ton of lines scribbled underneath, so I guess it was pretty important.

"Now, um, in two of these stories - one Formula Number One and one Formula Number Two - there's a character running around - some kind of strange guy who's interested in the main characters - who spends most of his time spying on them and saying ominous things. This happens a lot, and it really isn't suspenseful after the tenth or so story."

"You're one to talk, Smallville," jabbed Hellfire.

Clark shrugged. "I don't write scripts."

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Nicholas was on the way to his dorm, fully prepared for a semi-relaxing evening of feeding his homework to his cat, when he found himself accosted by a strange figure.

He readied himself to burninate the interloper - a male student, perhaps a bit older than himself - but when that interloper raised a finger to his lips and gestured into a convenient side corridor, he decided to go along with it, and followed him in.

Once they were well out of sight, Nicholas gave the student a pointed stare. "What's the big idea?"

"I came to ask you for help," he responded dramatically.

"With what? Your homework? Forget it."

"Not my _homework._ It's bigger."

Nicholas folded his arms and slumped against the nearest wall. "_How _big?"

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Emberlynn stumbled out of her last class feeling little less than joyful. While she still had homework to do, she had _finally_ escaped Cosmo's ramblings - several hours about small coins appearing in all the crossovers - and was, for one singular glorious day, exempt from Grammar Boot Camp. Things like that made an OFUAP student _happy._

"Hey, EMBY!"

Emberlynn tripped, inadvertently phasing one foot into the floor, and tried desperately to maintain her balance as Ian sprung into view.

"James 'n' I are gonna go eat some football and watch popcorn," he said. "Wanna come along?"

"No thanks," she answered, waving him off. He left, and she continued tugging at her foot, which remained firmly stuck in the floor.

"Hey, Emby," said James.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I do not want to eat football!"

"Actually, I was just gonna suggest that you should go ghost and phase it out," the ghost said, clearly gloating over his intellectual triumph.

"_Thanks,_" she grumbled. "You know, I was _going_ to do that."

"Sure you were," he chuckled.

Once he was well out of sight, Emberlynn followed his advice, pulled out her foot and continued on her way, though her spirits were marginally dampened by her sudden lapse of good judgement. Weren't halfas supposed to think of this stuff automatically?

"Emberlynn..."

"YES! WHAT?!"

"Whooooa, tiger," said Samuel, holding up his hands in defense. "Just delivering messages here. Miss Morgan said to tell you that your detention assignment is on Saturday in the billiards room."

_And won't someone come to get me, like _every_ detention?_ Emberlynn turned to ask, but the Illithid was already hastily retreating. "_Samuel_!" she shouted.

And was summarily ignored.

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Nicholas frowned. "Well, that's an interesting plan, Mr. Junkie, but I'm afraid I have to..." he waved his finger in feigned thoughtfulness, "decline."

"Come _on,_" the student grumped, folding his arms. "You're not gonna convince me that you _like_ it in this dump."

"Better than I like joining forces with pipsqueaks," Nicholas answered loftily.

Grinding his teeth, Jamayle stalked out of the hallway, disappearing quickly into the flow of students still retreating to their dorms. Nicholas grinned. _Join forces, no, but I'll have to tell the Clan of Evil about you. That plot of yours could make a fabulous diversion._

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Wednesday went and Thursday came, thrusting Emberlynn with disturbing unceremony into _CXLXII Crossovers That Should or Shouldn't Be Written,_ with Wanda. The fairy lost no time in getting to the subject.

"Lots of people enjoy reading a good crossover," she said. "I'm partial to a little _Teen Titans_ mix myself. But without the right idea behind it, it's going to go like Cosmo's fagiggligland."

Wanda was met with blank stares.

"_Bad,_" she emphasized.

The students nodded.

"The first story that gets my goat is the old Power Trip, with all the butt-whooping and explosions where the characters get together just to use their whoppin' cool powers against the Big Hairy Bad Guy. A little testosterone doesn't bother me, but come on! What are _personalities_ for? And I _do_ mean beyond what you order at the Nasty Burger.

"Now there's a crossover that _should_ be written," she said. "Let's see what these characters think of each other and each other's powers _without_ having a fight. It doesn't have much of a plot, so you work on it a bit. Maybe they get a job at the same construction joint, and their powers come out while they're working; just think of something nonviolent for once!

"The next one is the crossover with two fictions that look pretty similar in design, but when you get into the basics they're too different to really work together. See, _The Matrix_ and _Tron_ are both about computer worlds, but _The Matrix_ is much more serious of a story, and for the most part their worlds don't work the same way at all. There's a difference like that between _Danny Phantom_ and our show -- they were made by the same guy, but that's about the _only_ thing they have in common."

Emberlynn started to doze.

"The next plot is the one where the character from one story goes into the other, gets chummy with the other characters and starts turning into one of them. First he moves in; that's not too bad. But then he starts wearing their clothes, learning all their fighting moves. If he had his own powers before, he might lose them or give them up. In the end, it wouldn't make any difference to the story if you wrote it about a made-up character."

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Nicholas skipped class that day.

Hellfire had almost talked him out of it, but in the end he decided it just wasn't worth it to listen to The Doctor drone on about _Skulker Is Not A Decepticon_. He didn't even _like_ Transformers that much. Or crossovers. Or...

All right, Skulker was pretty cool.

Either way, the class was a complete waste of time, and so he gathered his fanfiction notes - which, since they weren't actual fanfiction, didn't seem to have drawn any attention - and cat, and skulked away to find a room in which he could hide.

Most, he quickly learned, were occupied classrooms, many full of students he'd never seen before. But at last, in a seemingly-forgotten corner of one corridor, he found what he was looking for. It was not only empty, but had a large number "3" emblazoned on the door, which appealed to him for a reason he couldn't quite place.

He phased his head through the door and glanced around, making doubly sure that the place was empty. It was, and large, too; it seemed to be a small auditorium, occupied by some speakers atop a raised platform and a few chairs. Satisfied, he flew into the room, settled comfortably on the floor and released his cat, who promptly took off after some semi-invisible insect.

"For your educational benefit, Miss Morgan has assembled a full list of assumptions one may make about characters' species during crossovers that she highly reccommends you avoid."

Nicholas glanced up sharply. He knew that voice... it was the Doctor.

Who was absolutely not in this room.

"And I have some good news -- she does not expect you to take these at her word. I have here a full list of her exact reasons why these assumptions are (a) frightening, (b) a bad idea or (c) just plain stupid."

The bad news was, his voice was being transmitted to Nicholas through the speakers in the corner, which he deduced after a moment of listening. Well, drat; he'd have to hide somewhere else. He got up, retrieved his cat and went to phase out.

The worse news was, all superpowers were routinely disabled during class time.

But the horrible news took the cake, he decided. Because the door was locked.

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"Firstly, she would like everyone to remember that Daniel Fenton is not a hanyou. He is a _halfa_, or half-ghost. Thank you.

"Now, on to less obvious notations.

"Danny is not some other kind of mythological being. This includes wizards, demons, Nobodies, Digidestined and mystical ninjas.

"Danny is not half-dead. He is half-_ghost._ This actually has no connection to crossovers, but Miss Morgan felt it was worth mentioning.

"Danny is not royal, or significantly descended from royalty.

"Danny is not Japanese.

"Danny is not the child of anyone other than his own parents.

"Danny is not an older sibling.

"Danny is not able to split into two at present. It is likely he never will be."

"So?" asked Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. "It's just as possible that he will. You guys said Danny couldn't have a half-ghost relative named Dani, and then they made one."

The doctor frowned. "It was an incorrectly-assembled clone, not a relative. Anyway, now is not the appropriate time to discuss that. You'll have plenty of opportunities in the next installment of _Why There Aren't More Halfas._"

"Feh," he muttered, but left it at that.

"Sam is not a witch."

Someone groaned.

"This one is kind of silly. Danny Phantom is a science fiction series centered around creatures designed after the ghost myth; there seems to be no magic involved. And while Miss Morgan is fond of the saying 'if you can't see it, you don't know it's not there', she also considers that adding witches to the mix would be similar to adding barbeque sauce to broccoli-cheese stew." He paused. "They weren't meant to go together any more than unicorns and _Lord of the Rings_."

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Alone and miserable - though not unloved, thanks to his cat - Nicholas sat through the rest of the class, listening to such irritating drivel as "Sam is not the offspring of Sango and Miroku, despite similarities in their clothing," and "Tucker is not the Ultimate Most Worthless Dork In The Known Universe."

To make matters worse, the Fairy Doctor clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "Sam is not emo," his _censored_ hind-part. Sam was so blatantly, obviously emo it wasn't funny -- just because she hid it from her friends didn't mean Nicholas was fooled.

"She is a _rebel,_ not a wrist-slicer."

And what kind of moron ever said that emo people routinely commit suicide? Total nonsense. Nicholas rolled his eyes and scribbled another note.

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"As a rule," said Wanda, "if you need a Deus Ex Machina to make a crossover - or for that matter, any story you want to write - work the way you want it to, it's time to come up with something different. Nobody wants to go through a huge heartbreak just so they can start living somewhere new. You might not understand this, but it isn't fair to the characters, especially if you don't plan on working them through a proper recovery. Nobody loses their whole family - or their whole town - and just starts trusting people again. It takes a lot of work for anybody; some people need years of therapy before they can start to be normal again.

"Unless you want to do all that work, don't torture the characters like that.

"Another thing you don't want to do is take a story that someone else has gone to all the trouble to make - your canon material - and write it over using characters from other worlds. Sometimes it's funny; usually it convinces me that you weren't being very creative. Sure, it's good writing practice, but it's not a new story."

"_Duh,_" said a teenaged ghost, loudly cracking her stick of gum. "It's the _same_ story, but with _me_ in it. Obviously, I like it _better_ that way."

"Of course you do... ahem, Xenaria," said Wanda. "Say, what flavor of gum do you have there?"

"Why?"

"Just curious."

The student rolled her eyes. "Blackberry."

"You're enjoying it, right?"

"_Duh._"

Wanda nodded, and arbitrarily pointed to another student. "Say, Erthiz, would you like to try the gum Xenaria's chewing? I mean, the piece she has right now?"

The circuited plant shook his head slowly, staring at Wanda as though he wasn't sure she hadn't lost her mind. "No, thanks."

"How about you, Ogdrea?"

The addressed halfa made a _gag_ motion. "No."

"Fenton's Girl?"

"Eew!"

Wanda nodded. "See? Nobody else wants to chew your bubblegum. It's the same way if you write a story about _your_ adventures in a movie. It's fun for you, but most people would prefer a fresh stick."

Emberlynn felt somehow awed by this bit of peculiar wisdom.


	19. Breaks & Bond

Another slightly short Chaptyre... er, chapter. (Been reading James Michener's _Caribbean;_ it's put me into a bit of a "17th-century bad spelling" phase. Note the correct use of the word "phase." Ironically, I had to correct a similar mistake on the PoTC wiki the other day... but I digress.)

Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the story.

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Chapter 19: Breaks & Bond

"Seriously crazed-up fruitloop, perhaps, but not a moron. Again, Miss Morgan notes..."

Nicholas rolled his eyes. Apparently the Fairy Doctor had never actually _seen_ Danny Phantom. Vlad was a plot device; a Token Bad-Guy. It was his _place_ to be a moron, and to be quashed by Danny on a regular basis.

Come to think of it, Vlad was a pretty lousy villain.

"On this thought, Vlad is also not some kind of a pansy. Even where the caring of children is concerned. He has had a long line of both minions and enemies; by now, he knows that no minor level of coercement - for the sake of argument, _hiney-paddling_ - is going to coerce anyone by the name of Fenton to do what he wishes."

There was a pause, and the vague sound of papers shuffling.

"Vlad is not interested in adopting children, nor in the petty routines of day-to-day parenthood. He is interested only in having an effective minion, a possible successor and Maddie. Were he interested in rearing a child, he would have done so already.

"Vlad is not a vampire. Yes, his ghost form is such that it resembles a vampire. It was designed as such to fit an overall theme. Plenty of you are familiar with the act of naming a character Starfyre, for example, to match her scintillating white hair; however, none of you would then declare that her hair must be made of literal white fire. The principle is the same.

"Vlad is not a sexy beast, although he appreciates your enthusiasm. He is, in fact, in his forties, and beginning to suffer from a few problems he has forbidden me from mentioning.

"Vlad is not the best candidate for Supreme Chancellor Valorum... honestly, I'm not sure that many people remember who Supreme Chancellor Valorum _is._ He is a fairly good candidate for Anakin Skywalker; take that as you will.

"Vlad is not related to Vincent Valentine... or Professor Hojo, in case you were concerned."

Nicholas, in particular, had not been especially concerned.

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"Moving on," said Wanda, "another plot, that crops up both inside and outside crossovers, that we try not to allow in public circles is the _Sugoi wa ni Nare_, -- or, since we're all speaking English here, _Transform Into Something Cool._ Character A-" she drew a long-haired stick figure on the chalkboard- "meets Character or Characters B-" she drew several large and winged stick figures. "Maybe they hit it off, or maybe Character B just threatens Character A until she goes away, but the secret gets out."

Several of the students stared blankly at Wanda.

"You know, the _big_ secret," she said, drawing a stick ghost in mid-flight for reference.

They nodded slowly.

"Well, now that Character A knows The Secret, she's a prime target for rampaging Bad Guys. They either want to transform her themselves, or just kill her. For now, we'll stick with killing. So, they rough her up good. Of course she, doesn't _die_, but if she doesn't get some kind of Transfusion of Ultimate Awesome soon that's where she's headed.

"So from point A to point B to point Someone Else's DNA, or Cybernetic Reconstruction. Bottom line, it's a big fat plot device that all leads to this."

She drew an oversized, long-haired stick figure with wings.

"Our Lovely Heroine is now Just Like The Regular Heroes." She sighed tremendously. "It's been touched on before, but sometimes we feel like we can't say it enough. Just _stop_ it.

"Now, if you're interested in being unusual, there's this old cartoon you might be interested in crossing with. You can check it out in the library; it's called _Galaxy High School_, and it doesn't have a rock-solid mythos, either.

"Oh, and if anybody gets lost in there and starts thinking about trying _Gravedale,_ just walk away from that part of the library."

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The Fairy Doctor cleared his throat. "I believe that's all we have to say about Vlad... moving on, now. Technus... is not a computer virus. He behaves similarly, but he is as much a computer virus as the Box Ghost is a box virus."

Someone snickered.

"Technus is not a sexy beast _either._ He is, however, rather dead.

"Technus is not a young victim of suicide. Were he to die in such a romantic fashion, it is likely his aims would have been geared more closely toward young women or general angsting.

"Technus is not the arch-enemy of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, or the wizarding world in general. Were the two to meet, the Hogwarts energy field would probably render them impotent, but as it has been stated, ghosts and complex magic together are too much of a good thing.

"Technus is not a dad. I may recant this if you can describe someone he could plausibly breed with... _discounting_ your made-up characters."

Nikki Techna, who had been about to speak, sagged in her seat disappointedly.

"Technus is not a sucker for a pretty face. He is a sucker for a lot of things, including a good set of circuits, but beauty is not among them.

"Technus is not in love with Skulker. It's suspected that this idea came about following the episode _Ultimate Enemy,_ in which a future Technus appeared merged with Skulker; however, this was a business arrangement in entirety. Technus added extra stability to Skulker's suit systems while receiving both an on-board targetor and navigator and the best in modern weaponry. Furthermore, it seems that by that point they had fairly well combined into a single entity, making a physical relationship just a bit difficult.

"Skulker is not in love with Technus.

"Skulker is not a Decepticon, although his armor may bear certain resemblance to such.

"Skulker is not make of such flimsy material that he will collapse under a few feet of water. Such as, for example, should he end up in the rather shallow realm of Bikini Bottom.

"Skulker is not approximately the same size as any resident of Bikini Bottom. Remember that things like sponges, squirrels, starfish and squids are seldom substantial in size.

"Skulker is not going to develop great aim simply because he is armed with a weapon of extreme _angst_ rather than extreme _pain_. Unless he is actually a horrible wuss with an aversion to cause genuine pain... which he is proven not to be.

"The Dairy King is not an appropriate choice for a major character. In Miss Morgan's own words, if he utters the phrase 'don'tcha know' once more than he already has, she will string him to the belfry by his intestines and leave him there until he curdles." The Doctor frowned thoughtfully. "This may be one reason he isn't part of the University staff."

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"Perhaps," said Wanda thoughtfully, "someone could write a crossover where the main characters never meet. They must survive in the others' worlds, but without outside interference. One thing this would accomplish would be that they'd quit adopting each other's fighting styles all the time. You'd also see some cool perspective on the way one group of people looks at another one's world.

"They shouldn't be saving the whole world, though," she said quickly. "That leads into what I was going to say next; this is sort of an extension on that Everyone-I-Love-Is-Dead-So-Here-I-Am plot. The writer takes the main character from one universe, throws him into another one, and then makes him the only one who can save this new universe from destruction. For crying out loud, he's already the hero of one world! He's got enough problems to contend with! Let somebody to whom it actually _matters_ save the other guys.

"And by that, I don't mean your made-up."

RikuxKairi, who had been about to speak, sagged in her seat disappointedly.

"Not only that, but this often leads into the _Time Warp_ problem. Characters get into each others' worlds, fair enough. Except that World A-" she drew a circle near the bottom of the chalkboard "-is several years to centuries later than World B." She drew a half-circle this time, higher up. "Again, I reference _The Matrix_ and _Tron._ _Tron_ is definitely set in a future, just judging by the technology alone, but it's a nearer future -- one where humans are still in charge of things and everything is pretty much peachy. Then you've got _The Matrix_, and that's set two hundred years after 1999. Even if one could lead into the other, it would be virtually impossible for them to actually touch.

"Another thing I'd like to see is a good James Bond crossover; one where Bond doesn't get too Phantom-fied and Danny doesn't get too... Katya? You all right?"

KatyaChekov had begun snickering in her seat, and straightened when addressed. "Bond," she said through a chortle. "Phantom-fied Bond. With ghost powers."

Wanda nodded. "Well, what I meant was that James shouldn't do that 'metamorphosis' thing I talked about earlier; y'know, when they start using the other universe's preferred methods for no particular reason. He's got his methods, Danny's got _his_ methods. They shouldn't get mixed up."

Katya nodded, but continued to snigger. Another student raised her hand.

"Yes, Sirius?"

"You haven't said anything about a Full Metal Alchemist/Danny Phantom crossover," the student responded. "Could we do those?"

"Great question," said Wanda. "In fact, I think it's a really good opportunity to review what we've learned so far. All right, everyone, we're going to take a half-hour break while you think about Sirius' question. Figure out whether a Full Metal Alchemist crossover would work against the Plots You Shouldn't Do, and prepare a written statement, which will be reviewed when class resumes. You can't leave the classroom, but feel free to move around as much as you want and discuss the issue among yourselves."

_Woo!_ Emberlynn thought. Half an hour wasn't much of a break in her book - compared to a three-hour class, especially - but anything was better than listening to Wanda drone on. She stood up, stretched, then sagged into her seat in as relaxed of a position as she could manage. Now, what had Wanda been yammering about so far?

She _had_ said something, right?

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Jedi Junkie rose from his seat with less relief than Emberlynn, and considerably more plotting. Wanda's impromptu assignment wasn't worth much, but the opportunity to speak with his classmates certainly would be.

Subtly, using as much Force as he could to appear inconspicuous, he sidled into the seat next to an appropriate-looking subject - a young, bleary-faced blonde who seemed more interested in chewing on her split ends than doing homework - and leaned over in a manner that he hoped looked casual.

"Excuse me," he whispered. "How would you like to get out of this dump?"

The student glanced lazily over at him, then spat out her hair. "You talking to me?"

"No, airhead, I was having a conversation with her desk. _Yes, _I'm talking to you."

"Well, if you're going to treat me like that, forget it."

"Never mind that," said Jamayle quickly. "I have a... proposal to make."

"What's for grabs?"

"Let's just say it's good. Just meet me in the supply closet, west side of the Habitat Ring."

"Mmm... I dunno," she said, flexing her jaw thoughtfully. "You don't look like my type."

Junkie rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do _that_ kind of thing."

"Then what are we going to do in a closet?"

"I want to talk to you about something."

"Hmm... _talk._" She seemed to be contemplating this. "Okay. Is Danny going to be there, or what?"

Jamayle sighed, and briefly wondered whether it was actually worth it to deal with these crazy people. "Yes," he finally decided to lie. "Danny's going to be there."

She grinned, giving him a slight wink and finger-twirling a lock of hair. "I'll be there."

Jamayle nodded and stood up, wondering darkly if all the girl students were going to be this stupid.

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Thirty minutes elapsed quickly, and after they'd gone it was a reluctant group of students that shuffled back into order. Emberlynn, who was not too familiar with _Fullmetal Alchemist_, had managed to wheedle some knowledge out of Winifred, but the report she'd scraped together was, at best, pathetic. Straightening in her seat, she hoped fervently that Wanda would not call on her.

It was a long few minutes before the fairy deigned to speak.

"I know thirty minutes wasn't very long," she said, "but I also know that we have some pretty smart students here, and I look forward to hearing your reports. Underwear, let's start with you."

"'S Underwear _Eater,_" he mumbled, sauntering to the front of the room. Landing jauntily on the desk, he produced a sheet of paper between his fingers and began to read.

"After a great deal of deliberation, in which I taxed my mental faculties to the utmost, I have finally reached a conclusion on the practicality of a merging between the universes of _Danny Phantom_ and _Fullmetal Alchemist._

"My conclusion is... sorry, guys. No can do.

"'S'like Wanda said -- Danny's got his own mythos going. In _Fullmetal Alchemist,_ when a person passes, they travel out of the mortal realm, through a Gate into a vast aether. In _Danny Phantom_, near as can be judged, the person's soul moves to the Ghost Zone. I couldn't be too thorough on this, as there is a sad lack of information on what occurs when one dies peacefully without any latent ties to the living realm; it is quite possible that they also enter the Ghost Zone and simply cease to be troubled. One may argue that it is possible that these ghosts are not dead at all, and my response would be: Where do they come from, then? What sick realm of being created these horrible caricatures of humanity? There can be nothing without a cause, my friends, and I'm afraid this cannot simply be explained away.

"Should science fail to convince you of this, however, I also bring to light that the universe of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ as we know it has been shown to be parallel to an Earth - from all evidence, the Earth from which we all hail - far in the past, at a location well away from Danny's point of origin. Even were the universes to somehow touch, the centres of activity could never connect."

He paused, apparently done.

"Thank you, Underwear," said Wanda. "You may return to your seat now."

He nodded and did so.

"Okay, that was an illuminating bit of eloquence," she remarked. "Next I'd like to hear from Tsokiranataiwa."

The student rose from her seat and headed for the front, blushing slightly. Crossing her legs, she positioned herself in front of the desk and tucked away a lock of errant hair.

_Show-off,_ Emberlynn thought.

She wasn't done, though. Tsokiranataiwa had to blink, scratch the back of her neck and inhale deeply before she got around to speaking.

"I don't think it could work," she said in a voice soft yet strong, causing Emberlynn to wince slightly. "Ghosts and... and alchemy are too different of forces to go together." She inhaled again. "The characters would be too wierd-"

She was grandly interrupted when an enormous EI fell onto her feet. A few of the students - by Emberlynn's estimate, about four or five - let out a cheer.

"-I mean, you can't have a suit of armor walking around Casper High," she continued, her demeurity unfortunately undiminished. "And Edo-"

The EI was abruptly replaced by a -O.

"-would cause too much trouble. Anyway, I just couldn't really see them in the same place; they're just too different, and if they were in the same world, how come Danny's world has ghosts and Edward's world has Homunculi? And those weird little gate things; they... do the same thing, in their respective worlds. There's no room for them in the other... like witches."

She paused, and this time it seemed that she had finished.

"Well, Tsoki, thank you for your thoughts," said Wanda.

The young student nodded, and stole gracefully back to her seat. Emberlynn though she saw Wanda breathe a sigh of relief.

"Now I'd like to hear from Murrd," she said.

A small, wiry ghost stood up in a far corner and edged toward the front. Unlike Tsoki, Emberlynn observed, he looked genuinely nervous, though it may have been due to the large glasses covering much of his face.

"What's your opinion on the matter, Murrd?"

"I think it could work," he stated matter-of-factly. "I didn't really have enough time to think things through, but I believe the mytha of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ and _Danny Phantom_ could mesh - or at least touch - without causing extensive damage to either realm.

"Tsoki had some interesting arguments, which I wouldn't mind addressing-"

"Let's just hear what you've come up with so far," said Wanda, in the tone of a psychiatric nurse who was, in fact, very much insisting that he do so.

"'Kay. Now, like I said, I didn't have very long to think about this, so the theory is a bit incomplete. Anyway. It's already been shown that the universe of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ is a sort of parallel Earth, connected to but not quite a part of our realm of existence. The predominant mythos of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ is not valid in our world - or at least, what I believe to be our world - indicating to me that it is not the exclusive system of functionality. However, certain elements carry over, which is why I suspect the world to which Edward Elric traveled may be yet another world, much more similar to our own yet governed by a few static elements which allowed the two worlds to be connected.

"These elements - the Gate and Gate Creatures - may be connected to several other worlds as well; some almost identical to ours, some as different as _Fullmetal Alchemist_, and perhaps some that meet somewhere in the middle -- for example, the world of _Danny Phantom,_ which is cosmetically more similar to hours, but seems to have a mythos closer to _Fullmetal Alchemist._ The energy-filled Gate Realm and its occupants are quite similar to the Ghosts and Ghost Zone, both having a strong connection to their own world and death. They could even be the same thing -- it might be that only extremely feisty spirits become ghosts, leaving the others as less distinct parts of the nexus.

"In this case, it's possible that the worlds of Fullmetal Alchemist and Danny Phantom are connected through the Gate/Ghost Zone area. They may not exist in the same period of time, but characters from one realm could definitely cross into the other.

"I don't know yet if alchemical abilities would be available in the Danny Phantom universe. It's possible that they would be available through a slightly different method, or that they are only accessible by ghosts, or, like our world, are not accessible at all. SnievalWoman?"

Emberlynn glanced back at the rather obnoxious blonde, who was managing to crack her braces and speak at the same time. "So, like, could Edo have ghost powers?"

"Not as such," said Murrd. "If he had any powers fueled by ectoplasm, they - or rather, it - would be traditional alchemy. Given the difference between ectoplasm and Gate Matter, he may have to practice for awhile to get it right, or he may never reach the same level of potency. It may be possible eventually that he could learn to channel raw ectoplasm, but given that the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ series has never covered anything like this, I doubt he could."

Snieval did not look happy about that -- although, Emberlynn thought with undue smugness, the enormous _-O_ in her lap may have had something to do with it.

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I had a lot of fun with the spellchecker (or, according to Firefox, spell-checker) in this chapter. Apparently someone forgot to teach it basic English; it has informed me in no uncertain terms that "mythos" and "snigger", among others, are not real words. Also, apparently junctioning a regular word to an appropriate suffix is not enough to make it a real word -- for example, the word "junctioning." Anyone who has ever played _Final Fantasy VIII_ could tell you it's perfectly good, but Firefox doesn't seem to get it. Sheesh (which is also not a real word).


	20. Brooches & Battering

Here it is! A new chapter, dredged up from the bowels of my .doc file. More to come later, but not _too_ soon.

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Chapter 20: Brooches & Battering

"Ugghh," Emberlynn moaned, flopping to the floor outside the classroom of _CXLXII Crossovers That Should or Shouldn't Be Written._ "My brain is never going to be the same. I feel like I need bleach!"

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Ian. "That's just the feeling of loads of crucial information slowly soaking into your brain. In a couple of hours it'll be worked in, and you'll feel nice and clean and much, much smarter."

"That's easy for you to say," Emberlynn groaned. "Everything fits in your head, since you don't have a brain." She rolled over to face him. "Seriously. How _does_ it all fit?"

Ian shrugged. "I rent out my brain to needy kids in impoverished countries."

_Well, I'm obviously not going to get a straight answer out of you._

"Anybody know what our next class is?" asked Winifred, meandering toward Ian in a flirtatious manner.

"Uh... it's called _Skulker Is Not a Decepticon,_" the halfa answered, shuffling away from Winifred. "The good news is, there'll be no pop tests. The bad news is, we have to listen to the Doctor fire one-liners for three hours."

"Really?" she asked, and tried to muscle her way into his shoulder. "How'd you know that?"

"It's in the mandatory-read schedule they gave you last Sunday."

"...Oh."

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"Ha ha, students!" boomed Jorgen von Strangle, clapping one fist into a cupped hand. "Welcome back to _Grammar Boot Camp!_ I trust you have not allowed too many of my teachings to escape your minds during your time off."

"No, sir!" exclaimed Abercrombie Fauntleroy. "I before E, sir! Danny Phantom is not a shinigami, sir!" The student was shaking so badly that Nicholas was almost sure caffeine had been involved.

"Danny Phantom is not a... _what?_" Jorgen queried. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I do not want to know. However, Abercrombie, that information will not help you here. Advanced homophone drills, four hundred yards! Hut! Two! Hut!"

As Nicholas started across the sludgy ground, he realized two things: that Jorgen was incurably nuts, and that it would be absurdly funny if someone were to tie the sergeant's combat boots together.

"Through our pain we will _broach_ the barriers of determination!"

"B-R-O-A-C-H!"

"We will recieve no medals of honor, not even a commemorative _brooch_!"

"B-R-O-A-C-H!"

Jorgen halted the company.

Nicholas could see that he was in for a long, sizeable bout of pain.

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Elsewhere on University grounds - inside the staff section, in fact - another sort of pain was occuring, at roughly the same time, as Miss Morgan concluded reading a particularily bad fanfiction.

Her conclusion, as she attempted to wipe her brain of the experience, was that the writer had done absolutely no research at all. Reprehensible on its own, this crime was virtually egregious when paired with the content of the writer's story: pregnancy.

Male pregnancy, no less.

"That didn't even _look_ like pregnancy," she growled. "That _looked_ like someone's elaborate prank that they knew they could get away with because Vlad was so clueless! Seriously! Who ever heard of anyone starting to show during the first trimester? Who ever heard of anyone getting morning sickness the day after they become pregnant? WHO EVER HEARD OF A TWENTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD WHO COULDN'T WRITE A REALISTIC PREGNANCY?!"

"Now, now," said Miss Miktayee, and patted Miss Morgan on the back. "Have some brain-bleach. You'll feel better."

Morgan accepted the bottle, and poured its contents down one ear before slumping on the desk. "I'm afraid I've lost my faith in writers. Again."

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Thirty minutes later, it appeared that the class had finally learned how to spell "brooch" -- and if they didn't, they had at least developed a good amount of skill in faking it. With that taken care of, they returned to regular homophone drills, and this time the students were a bit smarter -- if they weren't sure how to spell a word, they'd follow the cue of someone who did. Nicholas wasn't sure if this was completely brilliant, or something that was going to get everyone into trouble later.

"I am not FAZED by your petty whining!"

"F-A-Z-E-D!"

Well. Finally, they were improving. If things turned out well, this entire exercise could actually be good for Nicholas.

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Trudge, trudge. Recite. Trudge. Recite. Trip.

_No, no, no no no... don't trip!_ Emberlynn shoved herself back up, just in time to avoid Jorgen's gaze, and continued on. Trudge, trudge, recite, trudge... the entire thing had become so monotonous and painful she wasn't even sure what she was reciting anymore. Where Jorgen von Strangle was involved, _learn through pain_ developed completely incomprehensible depths.

"REPEAT!" Jorgen bellowed.

"Uh... B-E-W-A-R-E!"

"FLASHBACK!"

"F-L-A-S-H-B-A-C-K!" Emberlynn gave a mental sigh of relief. The last time he'd done that one, she'd put a space in it; Jorgen had then encouraged a large amount of space between her feet and the ground as she did chin-ups. In human form.

No, she was definitely not making that mistake again.

"We will remember this PHASE of our lives for years to come!"

"P-H-A-S-E!" That one seemed to be a favorite of Jorgen's.

"Company HALT!"

Emberlynn froze. Terror began to seep through her. Had she done something wrong? Worse - had someone _else_ done something wrong?

"All right, everyone, that's it for today's homophones," Jorgen declared. "You've done a very good job today... of SUFFERING! We will now be moving on to the _hard_ part."

"What's the hard part?" several students demanded.

Jorgen raised an eyebrow. "What's the hard part _WHAT?_"

"WHAT'S THE HARD PART, SIR?"

"The hard part," said Jorgen, "will be learning to actually USE the skills which I have pounded into your tiny brains. Tonight, after you haul your broken bodies back to your little dormitories, you are going to write a very short story using all the words you have learned this week. You will read these aloud tomorrow, after which there will be a full physical test. Those of you who fail will be forced to repeat this week until you are no longer failing. Those of you who pass..."

A few students looked at Jorgen hopefully; Emberlynn barely registered that she had managed to avoid splitting an infinitive.

"...let's just say there will be no hope of rescue from where I will send you. Unless, of course, you pass it. Company DISMISSED!"

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Emberlynn draped her sore limbs over her mattress, feeling oddly optimistic about the day's lesson. It had gone pretty well, she thought -- only one mistake, and it had quickly been resolved. Who'd have guessed that _brooch_ and _broach_ were two different words, anyway? Not her.

Her homework, though, was a bit foreboding. Not that she didn't think she could spell it - she was pretty sure she could - but how on Earth was she supposed to write a story with every homophone used in the class? It was... pretty near impossible.

"Now," said a voice, "the first thing you should remember about homework is that nothing is impossible. At least, nothing that you'll be assigned by these people. No matter how impractical it may seem, it is within the realm of your ability."

Emberlynn perked up. "Angel?"

"Over here, babes."

She sat up and glanced in the direction of his voice. The source didn't disappoint; there he was, clad in dark clothes, his back turned to her as he stared out the dorm window.

Emberlynn frowned. "Did you just call me 'babes'?"

The Homework Angel turned around, revealing in the less-than-dim light a face covered almost entirely by a tacky-looking papier-maché mask. "Ah, yes, sorry about that. It was a... pet name for someone I used to know."

Emberlynn raised an eyebrow. "Who was that?"

"Never mind." He stepped away from the window. "It isn't important. The important thing is to make sure that your homework is completed both timely and efficiently."

"Right... efficiently. Does it count as efficient if I'm dead by the time I've finished?"

The Angel frowned. "No. Don't be ridiculous; homework never killed anybody. At least not in this country. What Jorgen is asking is really quite reasonable; it's simply a question of having the right tools."

"Like... a brain and a pencil?"

He smiled. "Yes, exactly. See, you're catching on; I expect the process will be easier than your initial assessment. Come with me to the library and we'll get started."

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Nicholas stared at his paper. It remained thoroughly blank, despite the fact that he'd started this project nearly half an hour ago. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to write; he very much did, just to give Jorgen the what-for. His muse, however, failed to oblige him, leaving him with the very embarassing realization that he actually needed one; apparently the Factory of Awesome in the back of his head didn't run itself.

He eyeballed the paper with all the disdain might one give a stationary cow. This assignment was not easy; not only was it going to be a pain using all the words the assignment needed, but he was very, very short of a plot. _It shouldn't be _hard_ to think one,_ he grumbled. _It's only got to be a few pages long! This ought to be ridiculously easy._ _Stupid paper._

He glowered at his notebook, notwithstanding its lack of responsibility in the situation. It briefly occured to him that setting it on fire would be fun, but then he'd have nothing to write his assignments on, which would not go over well with the staff. He'd already burned out the image of Jack Fenton's face, anyway, so more destruction would be superfluous.

He closed the notebook and thought for a moment -- not the first time he'd tried it, but it couldn't hurt. And then, it worked -- inspiration hit. Not quite his muse, but awfully close. All he needed to do was take the coolest thing in existance and put it on paper; his innate writing ability should do the work from there. And, he believed, he had just the thing.

A few minutes later, it became painfully obvious that he did _not_ have just the thing. Apparently an utmost coolness factor didn't make it any easier to write. This wasn't _working_; he just didn't have the drive he needed to make a good story! Or even a halfway readable one.

Frustrated, he finally did scribble something onto his paper: _I hate this assignment._

Then it clicked. The inspiration he'd been waiting for - the plot he needed to make his genius take flight - had materialized in his mind, perfectly formed as only brilliance was. It lay in front of him like a pop-up book of computer schematics, begging for him to dig into its untouched world of intricacy.

And it was such a lovely shade of _purple._

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"Broach: to pierce, puncture, or break; to introduce, as _to broach the subject_; to cross a threshold. To form. Also a noun; describes several devices used to accomplish broaching of the first sort, or the pins within a lock." Emberlynn slammed the dictionary shut and stared at the Angel of Homework, who was perched on the desk corner scribbling something into a Fenton Notebook. "Okay, I get what the word means. Now can we get to the part where you help me write something?"

"I cannot," the Angel said mysteriously. "I can only give you the tools. True inspiration must come from within."

"I don't need true inspiration. I just need to do this assignment."

"Everything you write requires inspiration, no matter how small a source. Much like that dream you were having last night with Keanu Reeves."

Emberlynn blushed furiously. "Shut up about that! How'd you know about that dream, anyway?"

"Quite easily. You're very poor at keeping your thoughts to yourself... especially while walking alone in the halls."

"Ooh, I'm gonna kill you!"

"Then you'll have to finish your homework by yourself."

"Fine," Emberlynn pouted. "Can you just throw me a bone? A hint? A plotbunny?"

"A plotbunny..." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small rabbit, whose six-inch fangs shone in the dim light as it tried to wriggle free. "You mean one of these?"

"The figurative kind, _duh._ Get rid of that thing."

"Fine." He returned the rabbit to his clothes. "I think you'll find they're quite indispensable, though. I could get you one of your own if you like."

"No. Just help me come up with a story to write. It doesn't have to be the whole plot. Just a tidbit!"

"I already told you. I can't do that."

"I _need_ it!"

"Which does not mean I am required to give it to you!" he snapped. "You are such a spoiled child. Just because I offer you one thing, you decide you have to have it all. Well, you don't, nor is it my job to give it to you!"

She stared at him, somewhat awestruck.

"I am not obligated to help you in any way. I offered my assistance in the first place because I believed you showed promise. I believed you were a cut above other students like you. Well, if you wish to correct me now, please feel free to do so and I will let you back to your work! There are other students that could use my tutelage."

"Uh, no, that's okay," she interrupted quickly. "I'm just gonna open the dictionary and... look up thirty-four definitions for 'weight'."

He nodded. "Good. And if you still need inspiration later, I'll be happy to show you to the _Tropes_ section of the library."

"I thought you said-"

"True inspiration comes from within. Artificial inspiration is almost as good."


End file.
